#he named the ship after lola... how sweet

[wp100]

manny calavera my beloved

[twobluejeans]

HEARTBREAK ON TOUR!

charles leclerc x famous!reader

summary: in which the lavender haze has been lifted. or in which america’s it couple splits.

part 9:foreign affairs, series masterlist

faceclaim: madison beer

ally’s radio 📻: PART 9! anyways, stan y/n l/n for clear skin and good grades!✨😌

INSTAGRAM, july 18

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yourinstagram mood :') gonna cry all day lol. thank you for your warmth. thank you for listening n hearing me. i love you.

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ntltcy/n whoever said the second slide is so real

danielricciardo I said what I said

zendaya ma’am is taking up all 10 spots on the 10 ten…that’s my best friend ❤️!!!

channeleclerc16_ she should just stick to acting…

beyonce well deserved! the song brought actual tears to my eyes

 yourinstagram beyonce  screaming crying shaking…thank u, i love u always

leclerc_pascale beautiful girl congrats

 yourinstagram leclerc_pascale  thank u mama

drewstarkey on repeat i fear 

ferarrileclerc i mean ... since the song is about charles that means he got another number one hit! charles congrats baby!

harrystyles A beautiful song from an even more beautiful person. Congratulations, Y/n/n—H.

ypurinstagram thank u sweet angel. miss you!

redlipclassicy/n harrystyles yourinstagram WHAT THE FUCK

JULY 18, 2023

Lola Ransdell Under Fire for Using the N-Word in Resurfaced Tweets

Not a good look.

BY ALLY JULY 17, 2023 11:15 AM

Lola Randell has some explaining to do. The 25-year-old came under fire on Sunday when Twitter users began resurfacing tweets of the model using the N-word in 2020. The receipts included direct messages and Instagram comments, in which Ransdell called her friends the racial slur, as well as tweets from Ransdell claiming that she could use the N-word because she’s “not white.”

In screenshots resurfaced by the Twitter PopHub, Ransdell can be seen calling someone an “ugly” N-word. The screenshots also include a group chat with some of her friends, in which she is called out for using the N-word. In her response, Randell explains that she can use the derogatory term because she’s not white. (Ransdell’s mother is Brazilian, but that still does not excuse her behavior.) “I’m not white tho so that’s awk,” Ransdell responded.

However, the receipts don’t end there. Along with the first screenshots, some users also resurfaced other old tweets, in which Ransdell said that she returned a “different race” after she spent some time tanning in Florida. (She accompanied the tweet with an emoji of a man with a turban.) Another screenshot also shows Ransdell liking a 2020 meme comparing Jay-Z to a Ransdell. One user also claimed to have a video of Ransdell rapping the N-word, though the audio is unclear.

Ransdell allegedly once tweeted, "leaving to Florida white but coming back to NY a different Race." The statement was accompanied by an emoji of a white blonde man and an emoji of a darker-skinned man wearing a turban.

A post from 2019 read, "With @chanteljefferies and that awkward moment when ur at a Chinese restaurant and your waiter isn't Chinese...."

The following year, she allegedly threatened, "Shut up before I smack you back to your own country!"

Screenshots also show the youtuber allegedly liking an Instagram post from 2018 about how only men and women should marry because the Bible says so.

Then there are the women-hating posts.

Ransdell allegedly liked an undated Instagram post showing a photo of Selena Gomez that posed the question, "Would you smack her for $835 BILLION?!" The person whose reply was featured in the meme read, "I'd smack her for a sweet tea from McDonald's."

In 2018, Ransdell allegedly tweeted about transgendered women" being "wicked slutty."

She's also been accused of openly hating on her boyfriend’s former partner, Y/n L/n.

Once a fan of Charles (and even of Charles and Y/n together), Ransdell  seemingly turned on the 26-year-old singer when "Your/Ship/Name" was on the rocks.She allegedly once followed a Y/n L/n  hate account on Instagram and allegedly favorited/liked a tweet from 2022 that showed a picture of Y/n and read, "She collects guys as if they were infinity stones."

How these receipts surfaced is unclear (many of them are private messages between Ransdell and her friends, so someone must have leaked them on the internet), but it’s certain that people aren’t happy with Ransdell using slur, even as a joke. After the tweets resurfaced, many users took to Twitter to call out Ransdell for her offensive behavior, as well as demand accountability and an apology from her and her Formula One boyfriend, Charles Leclerc. 

SEE MORE RELATED POSTS:

• Charles Leclerc finally addresses messy breakup with Singer Y/n L/n.

•Harry Styles just commented on Y/n L/n’s Instagram post for the first time in 7 years.

• Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince: Harry Styles and Y/n L/n’s relationship timeline

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y/naflorals CHAR!ES SPEAKING ABOUT MOTHER TODAY IN AN INTERVIEW

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dressy/n no comment.

lewismercedes ur joe king…ur joe. king.

leclerc16charles as a charles fan…idk either i’m sorry

TWITTER, july 18

INSTAGRAM STORIES, july 18

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TWITTER, july 18

ally’s radio 📻:i don’t like this chapter 😞. also pls know that anything that was mentioned within lola’s article is not something i condone!! pls don’t think i’m a bad person, it’s literally only just for the plot😭!! i got inspo off of hailey biebers old tweets sooo. if u see ur username but u weren’t tagged, it’s bc tumblr wouldn’t let me :( if u asked me to tag u and i didn’t, pls send me a message or inbox me bc it might’ve gotten lost 😭 i try to stay up-to-date but sometimes i miss people so pls lmk!!!

taglist 🦢🪩: @incoherenciass@dakotali@405rry@topaz125@sassyheroneckgiant@hevburn@itsmytimetoodream@ivegotparticulartaste@crowdedimagines @asterianax @haydee5010@scenesofobx@christinabae@magical-spit@dessxoxsworld@myareadsbooks@honethatty12@hopefulinlove@diasnohibng@gentlemonsterjennie1@hummusxx@eugene-emt-roe@taestrwbrry @perjarma @cxcewg@chimchimjiminie16@glow-ish@allywthsr @millyswife@mrsmaybank13@black-swan-blog27 @stargaryenx@lilsiz@ohthemisssery@leclerclvr@slytherinjimin3nthusiast@shessthunderstoms@cool-ultra-nerd@ncentic@playboykenz @canvashearts @tinyhrry @xeliaaaa @ifionlywould @gaviypedrisbride @callsignwindow @dhhdhsiavdhaj@chasing-liberosis@laneyspaulding19@a-daydreamersday@saikikusouswife@motorsp0rt@lifesuckslife@shessthunderstoms@drewsandsebastianswife @sainzluvrr@ietss @agustdlvr @sarahkaliii @sweethoneyblossom1@sticksdoesart @ayoanna @c0wgirlswag @ifionlywould @l1ghtaura @ellesmythe @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

[kimberlyannharts]

So Darkest Hour is over, the MMPR main series has wrapped, so what do we do now? We......check out the adventures of this team led by a giant polar bear? Sure!

It's Power Rangers Infinity!

= For those who haven't seen the previews: our main character, Lola! She's cute, I like her a lot; even if admittedly BOOM has really been dishing out the Green Ranger girls one after another lately. (As for her last name being Navarro.....put in a pin in that for a second. Unfortunately it doesn't go where you might think it goes.)

= Obviously there's no way to prove it but moments like this kiiiiiind of feel like this was written back when BOOM figured they were finished with the PR license. It's a little too on the nose

= GIRL YOU LOOK SO GOOD

= Though I am a little annoyed because her lines here about looking for Lola for a long time made me think my theory that she was targeting her because she was related to Tyler/Shelby (or Poisandra just THOUGHT she was) was real. Unfortunately Lola's last name being Navarro isn't at all relevant (she targets Lola because she overhears that she writes PR fanfiction, so she wants Lola to make a weak team she can beat, it's a whole thing) so I guess in the end it was just an Easter Egg. I guess it's not too much of a surprise as this is set in "our" world rather than the Dino Charge world, but still, if you were going out of your way to pit a Dino Charge villain against a main character with the same last name as a Dino Charge character, you'd think that was leading up to something

= Group shot of the team! Along with the names, since I kind of skimmed my first reading and didn't retain them kjkdjf

= Also I just noticed Braylee's visor is shaped like a megaphone. That's cute

= Unfortunately the Poisandra Stan Society skipped out on PMC 2024. I totally would have gotten a picture with them otherwise

= Obviously as this is a one-shot book making gags out of the concept of "unlikely character archetypes as Power Rangers" the Infinity team members don't have the most complex personalities, but it's vital for you to know that the Pink Ranger, Penelope Prescott, is a lesbian. Anyway hot bear time

= I literally went into this book thinking the polar bear (Coach Kumo) would end up being a joke one-note "haha is that an ANIMAL as a ranger??" a la Yale but he actually ended up being my favorite character so uh. Yeah. Power Rangers Infinity did the whole "animal ranger" thing better than the main series. Make of that what you will

= And a look at the other teams. And okay, I'm just going to come out and say it; we did canonically have a pirate team in the show. I KNOW THEY DIDN'T DO PIRATE STUFF BUT I DON'T CARE, THEY STILL EXISTED, IT'S NOT AS OUTLANDISH AS THE HOCKEY BEAR UNIVERSE

= I do have to admit, for as much as this book tries to joke about how Poisandra isn't a threat and can't find a team weak enough for her to defeat, they're pretty casually talking about how she's basically committing mass genocide. Like their teams/universes are literally dead. I think that counts as beating them

= Proud of the book for not calling them "Paisley Force"

= your uber is here

= Anyway actual worst part of this book is it implies Poisandra took out Curio too which SHE WOULD NEVER DO!!!!!!! THAT IS HER BESTIE!!!!!!! Sledge getting her this ship is 100% in-character though

= Poisandra has committed mass murder and kidnapping but nothing compares to the evil of committing Lola to the path of customer service

= Still a better Green Ranger reveal than M/tt

= This silly one-shot parody comic sure has a lot of death in it

= speaking of death:

= MORE ONSCREEN DEATH THAN DARKEST HOUR IN THE ONE-SHOT GOOFY PARODY COMIC I'M GOING INSANE

= This is sweet and everything, but it kinda takes me back to how members of this fandom would uhhhh kinda harass the writers and BOOM about including their own ideas in the comic. (And the actors too. Firsthand witness to that at PMC 2024!) So to all up and coming writers and artists: please keep your submissions and pitches to professional settings

= see you, space cowboy...................

[sassy-radio-hazbin-queen]

This is my version of Loonatics unleashed. I decided to do my own version. So some major differences are.

1- The Loonatics take place in 2017 which makes it's a bit more relatable to us. I love the designs of the future but I have to admit I found it weird with all the new technology the phones still look very early 2000s 😂.

2- The looney tunes are there Great Grandparents not 300th Great grandparent.

3- Duck and Rev are Girls. I wonder how come there was only one girl in the team. There supposed to be descendants not carbon copies 😒. I mean we're they saying girls can't be descendants from boys.

4- Ace and Lexi are Fraternal twins. Guys I'm sorry I just can't seem to ship them. They are descendants of Lola and Bugs bunny who are in a canonical relationship. It's a cute ship don't get me wrong. But for me it's just weird.

5- The Loonatics are young adults. Wikipedia says there teenagers but these guys are in universitys?? There ages are. Slam and Tech 22, Ace and Lexi 20 , Rev and Danger 18.

6- Zadalvia is NICE to Danger.

7- There backstories. Starting with Slam Tasmanian.

First off he can Talk. I never understood why they gave Wiles and Roadrunner descendants talking abilities but not him.

He lived in Tasmania and has an Australian accent kinda like Hugh Jackman. Some humans said they were going to take there home unless Slam comes up with 100,000,000,000,000,000 dollars. ( Which is impossible) so he signs up for American wrestling. He goes to America but finds out it's not what he thought. However a meteor changes his life forever. He has a younger kid sister who is his biggest supporter and lived with his mom after there father walked out on the family. Loves to cook. His birthday is May 4th and yes the others do joke and say May the 4th be with you much to his annoyance. Zodiac is Taurus ♉

Next up Tech e Coyote

His backstory is kinda complicated. He was diagnosed with Asperger's when he was 4 and was often bullied to the point where he is TERRIFIED of public speaking. He has lots of stim toys and sometimes didn't feel like talking. During college he befriended a shy bullied girl names Mallory and eventually fell in love with her. Unfortunately there was an accident he caused by mistake and she ended up becoming the Mastermind. He tried with inventing again but after several accidents he was kicked out of the university. However a meteor changes his life forever. Birthday Dec 30. Zodiac Capricorn ♑.

Next up Ace and Lexi

I decided to do these two together since there twins so they basically lived the same lives. Ace is the older twin and is a daredevil who got in trouble with his parents alot. As for Lexi she was a very sweet girl who everyone liked. She was definitely the angel to aces devil personality. However this came at the cost of her getting bullied and Ace getting detention alot in high school. ( Because no one messes with a guy's younger sister especially if she is your twin) at college though he seemed to mature a bit and Lexi learned how to deal with bullies with her one passion Dancing. She loves Ballet. And Ace wanted to be a Actor like his Great Grandpa Bugs bunny. Unfortunately try outs didn't go well for either. But a Meteor changes there lives forever. There birthday is Oct. 13 making them Libras ♎

And now for everyone favorite talkative roadrunner Rev Runner.

Ok so like I said Rev is a girl runner. She had a pretty standard life. However her parents never believed she had ADHD just thinking she was faster than normal or not paying attention to them. Her younger brother Rip is 10 in this world and as far as she is concerned. She is more his mother than there own. Harriet and Ralph are pretty rich and practically use there kids to help make money. Rev being the oldest was put under a lot of pressure growing up. Ralph often would push Rev to her limits. To make things worse he was Willing to Marry her to some Creep to get more money. Luckily she got away. Unfortunately she couldn't take her brother with her. Something that still crushes her. She started work at a diner as a waitress. She was miserable until a certain meteor struck earth changing her life forever. Her birthday is Feb 1. Her Zodiac is Aquarius ♒

For the Final loonatic. My personal favorite Danger Duck

( this is the only gif of him are you kidding me 😂)

Anyway like Rev she is a Girl. And the youngest of the team. Her life wasn't exactly easy at all. Her parents were murdered in front of her by psycho clowns at age 5. Then she went through several foster homes with all of them sending her back cause she was a ' problem child'. None of them realized she was lashing out in grief. She practically grew up in the system. She had only one friend. Pinkster Pig. However when he got adopted he started changing and bullied her throughout high school. When she hit 18 she was kicked out of the orphanage and was homeless taking off jobs just so she can sleep somewhere. Her latest job and place was at a pool place. After a hard day of work. A meteor changes her life forever. Her birthday is July 25. Her Zodiac is Leo ♌

As for Zadalvia. Since she is an alien I decided to make her more like avatar. She has a striped tail. And is green skin. Her outfit is Blue. And she has Orange hair. She is 35 years old. Her backstory is pretty much the same. Except I decided to have Optimus ( I dont know how to spell his name) is possessed by the robo stuff he wears. There parents died when she was young and he became an adult. After years of ruling freleng he found a robot costume and put it on. Unfortunately it possessed him. He imprisoned his sister but she escaped with the help of a rocket. Resulting in the meteor. Her birthday is September 3. Her Zodiac is Virgo ♍.

And that's basically my version of the Loonatics hope you like them 😊

[agentxthirteen]

Marvel Studios’ (and employees’) treatment of Emily VanCamp & Sharon Carter:

Going back from 2011: Hayley Atwell’s comments about playing Sharon herself. Comments become distinctly more negative when Sharon is announced as returning in Civil War and increased/continued until she filmed her Endgame scenes. (source, with plenty of details, though it’s incomplete)

Chris Evans treatment went from this in 2013 to this afterward.

The Russos lack of respect/appreciation for the character didn’t help Sharon become more popular. Though Markus & McFeely talked her up more, they, too, ultimately let her down (and made things worse for her by having Steve go back to Peggy, fueling the Uncle Steve jokes, despite in 2016 talking down the Steggy ship and saying “They kissed once on a moving car, with Tommy Lee Jones in the car. Not the sexiest situation you can have.”).

2016- Things escalated significantly after the kiss in Civil War, and the hatred was noticed to the point that an article came out addressing it and noting how the fans and the actress had received hatred. Sharon-positive events held by fans online were targeted by Sharon Carter hate blogs.

2017- The 10th Anniversary photo is taken. Emily VanCamp is the only actor there not currently in a Marvel project. They might have just had her there to have another face in the crowd. It’s significant that The Russos, Markus, McFeely, Kevin Feige, Chris Evans, and Hayley Atwell were all in attendance. All of them knew what was going to happen, or at least had a good idea. Maybe they just had her there to add another person to the crowd, but as time would go by, it would feel more and more like they only had her there to mock her.

2018- Even in 2018, shipping was a critical part of the hatred Sharon and Emily received.

2019- Endgame premieres on April 24. Emily leaves the country May 6 after canceling an appearance to promote her show The Resident at a festival. She says in a later interview that she and her husband turned the trip into an impromptu honeymoon. The catch? She only went out of the country with her husband because he was already leaving the country - to film a movie. Which means she spent a chunk of her honeymoon alone.

In August, she’s announced as returning as Sharon Carter in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier - Kevin Feige first claims that Peggy Carter is returning before correcting himself. Though clearly only a slip, given how badly Sharon and Emily had been treated previously, a bit more effort would have been appreciated. Especially since it would not be the only time someone with Marvel got Sharon or Emily’s name wrong.

2021 - Piecing together interviews for F&WS, it appears they gave her the script to episode 3, used that to convince her Sharon would finally be treated better, and only told her about the Power Broker twist once she’d officially signed on. Malcolm Spellman told her he was excited to show her what they had in store for Sharon; she thought he meant the fight scenes. Zoie Nagelhout said that Sharon “was too weak to survive with her morality intact.” Kari Skogland said Sharon had “the face an angel and the heart of a devil.” This was particularly jarring since it 1) went against comic book canon for 50+ years and 2) Emily VanCamp spent the bulk of her time doing press in 2016 defending the kiss and talking about how much she loves Sharon’s integrity and strong moral compass.

In September, Marvel’s What If: Zombies episode premiered. Sharon got some good material, though there were complaints about how she was little more than a plot device. She was also killed gruesomely (both times) in ways that caused Sharon fans some concerns. First, she’s attacked and turned by Steve, then Hope shrinks and flies inside of her, growing to full size and blowing Sharon up from the inside. CBR actually called it the most brutal kill. A couple days later, the head writer, AC Bradley gave an interview where she talked about writer Matthew Chauncey’s original idea - having Steve bite Sharon’s lips off and spit them out. When Bradley expressed concern, she said Chauncey told her that Steve belonged to Peggy and nobody likes Sharon anyway. Bradley ultimately decided to downplay the violence because “Emily Vandercamp” is very sweet. Chauncey responded to a comment on his Insta saying that though he is a Steve/Peggy shipper, he loves Sharon. He has not yet responded to people who shared what AC Bradley said he said.

Where they went right: 1) Anthony Mackie is the only member in the cast prior to 2021 who said anything nice about Sharon without being prompted. There are reports RDJ and Don Cheadle were also kind to her on the Civil War press tour. 2) Fans got upset with Emily touching Lola, Coulson’s car, when she hosted Marvel: From Pulp to Pop in 2015. Clark Gregg, who plays Coulson, said she had clearance to do so; the anger quickly died down.

[yeojaa]

( VELVETEEN RABBIT. )

What do you get when you mix Thumper and Bambi?  Answer:  Jeon Jungkook.

pairing.  french lop bunny!jjk x ragdoll cat f!reader.

genre + rating.   hybrid!au set in college.  super fluffy, a little angsty, with a dash of smut to balance it all out.  explicit towards the end because i just can’t help myself.  oops.

tags / warnings.  honestly, this jungkook should just come with his own warning.  but more realistically, mentions of kook using a scrunchie, kook being cute, kook railing his date after using the world’s worst puns...  the usual.

wc.  4.4k

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ as always become, c’mon.  i’m me.  she’s her.  

author note.  this was written as part of @thebtswritersclub​‘s a hybrid fest and is gloriously late (i’m so sorry @ditttiii​​).  i’ve never written anything hybrid-related before so hopefully you enjoy.  feedback goes a long way!  xoxo

He orders the same thing every time he’s in.  Iced Americano, no room for cream, and a single almond croissant.  (Every once in a while, he switches it up for matcha but that’s exceedingly rare.)  He always pays with a tap of his wrist - a sleek black AppleWatch with rubber band - and flashes his trademark slightly too-big smile.  All the girls swoon.  So do the guys.  Everyone except for you.

He’s unnervingly handsome, with long dark ears that sometimes hang in front of his eyes.  You’ve caught him with them pulled back Lola Bunny-style, knotted with a loose silk scrunchie that looks nearly as soft as his fur.  His hair’s usually unkempt, tossed into a little sprout of a bun, overly long fringe falling all over his big round eyes.  He wears butterfly clips sometimes, though that’s usually on days where he isn’t freshly sweaty and carrying his gym bag.  They appear in his hair when it’s damp from a shower, the smell of papaya and honey clinging to every inch of him.  You know, because you have a great nose - one that’s sensitive to every smell under the sun but especially his.  (You try not to think about it much.)  

It’s a Wednesday morning when you notice the change.  It doesn’t register at first, acknowledgement coming in a curious sniff at the air.  Weird. 

“Thanks,” he says like clockwork, a well-oiled polite machine, deceptively slender hands receiving the exceedingly hot cup without a care in the world. He’s got his usual bag over his shoulder - overly big, black, almost tactical - and a pair of comfortable looking pants on that seem more like they belong on your beloved grandmother.  Somehow, he rocks it (but he always does).  “Have a nice day.”

Because of course he says that.  Of course he steals the words right out of your mouth, turns them back on you as easy as he makes your heart rattle around in your chest like it’s a Friday night bingo ball. 

He moves toward the bar - he only ever grabs three napkins, tucks them into the slot on the left side of his bag - but pauses halfway there.  Rooted to the same spot as always, sleek ears following the imposing line of his shoulders.  

One, two—

The thumping starts, so quiet it’s almost negligible.  But you catch it, because you always do and because you’re the reason for it. 

He turns then, levels you with a look from the corner of those pretty, pretty eyes and you can’t help but laugh, openly, unashamedly, with the back of your hand plastered to your mouth. A true ojou-sama. 

His mouth quirks - does that funny thing where he sucks in his cheek then rolls it back out with his tongue - and you think he might finally say something.  Call you out for writing his name wrong for the past five weeks, finding more and more creative ways to do so every time.  Even occasionally using nicknames - silly things you’d come up with while on the walk home, or during lunch, or in bed.

“Good one,”  he states, laugh lines threading over his face, prominent around his eyes.  His nose wiggles with the sound - another of his traits that comes out to play often.  Your favourite of them all, if you’re being honest.

“Anytime.”  

You don’t realise it’s him until it’s too late, until you’re practically running into him, bouncing off the broad expanse of his back with a startled squeak.  Lucky for you, you’re quick on your feet, catching yourself before your skull can become too well-acquainted with the red brick wall to your right.

“You okay?”  Though he asks, you have a sneaking suspicion he knows you’re not and an even stronger suspicion that he’d been waiting for you, hovering past the entrance of the cafe with his big university hoodie on.

“Barely,”  you manage around a laugh, straightening the backpack slung over your shoulders, packed to the brim with goodies you got to bring home at the end of the night and two of your textbooks.

“Should watch where you’re going.”  

This is the most conversation you’ve had - ever.  But it’s fun, easy, organic and natural.  You wonder why that is. 

“You should watch where you’re standing, actually.”

He’s so much bigger than you, imposingly tall (especially being part of the Leporidae family) and wide in the chest.  Not bulky by any means, but big.  Strong.  Threaded with a strength you don’t normally see in hybrids of his kind.  It probably has to do with how often you see him covered in sweat and panting, basketball hooked under his arm, soccer cleats tied to his bag.

When he speaks again, it’s full of mirth, squeezing his round eyes near shut.  “Got a problem with me standing here?”  

You nod, solemn as ever (which is really never, but that’s besides the point).  “It’s dangerous to block entryways, didn’t you know?”  You’re gesturing to the awning, the dark interior just past the window of the shop.  “You’re loitering, Jungkook.”

“So you do know my name.”  You can tell he’s not surprised - that he’s hamming it up for dramatics, softly pink lips rounded in a little ‘O’.  He’s cute like this, you think.  Playful in a way you’ve never seen before.  

“I do?” 

There’s that cheek thing again.  It’s even more attractive up close, the shape of his jaw thrown into prominent relief when he sucks in a breath.  

“You just said it.”

You nod, thoughtful, finger tapping upon your chin.  “I guess I did.”

“Say it again,”  he states, expression inscrutable, eyes bright.  They’re so glossy even under the dimmed streetlights, impossibly big and undeniable.  So easy to get lost in - if your attention weren’t caught by something else.

“What is that?”  

You’d noticed it earlier in the day, caught the scent in passing sometime during the early hours.  You’d been unable to place it then, too distracted by freshly ground coffee, a girl’s three too many spritzes of Daisy by Marc Jacobs, and baking banana loaves.

It’s heady, masculine.  A strong musk that sinks into your nose and makes it twitch, ears rotating as if that’ll help pin the smell down.  

“What’s what?”  You hadn’t realised how close you’d become, your face five seconds from planting directly into his chest.  (It’d probably be nice - you know how soft your school’s merchandise is.)  “Are you okay?”  He asks because you’re now, actually, planting your face right against the worn navy cotton.  It’s terribly nice, silk upon your cheek.  

You answer more to his clothes than to him, nosing into the fabric. “You smell different.”

You feel more than hear his laughter, the sound barreling past his teeth seconds later.  The vibrations running along his spine jostle you from your position face first upon him but you don’t mind.  It doesn’t send you far, dark eyes peering up into the face of the bunny hybrid.  True to his kind, his nose is twitching, puffs of laughter expanding his cheeks when he meets your stare. 

“No I don’t.”

“You do.”  Tone firm, a finger lands upon the neatly embroidered N on his hoodie.  The white stitching stands in stark contrast to your baby blue nails.  “You smell… off.”

Whether Jungkook’s offended or not, you can’t tell.  He’s got that same strange expression on his face - the one from this morning when he’d received his coffee.  It’s made up of too many moving parts:  the flutter of his lashes, the coil of his jaw, the minute tick of the corner of his mouth.  You can’t read him for shit, somehow more confused now than in your 300-level art history class.  (You’d taken it as one of your optional electives assuming it’d be an easy A.  You were wrong.)

“Sorry you think so,”  he hums, looking down at you.  You’ve seemed to fully forget the meaning of personal space, edged up beside him as if you’re best friends and not just two ships passing in the night. 

“It’s not bad.”  Really, it isn’t.  It’s strong and sensual, vegetal in a way, calming in another.  But it isn’t unwelcome. 

In fact, you think you might like this scent a little more - less sweet than what normally clings to his skin, natural honeycomb rather than processed sugar.  It zings across your teeth, pieces broken up and scattered behind your molars.  You can practically taste it.  Him.

“Is that so?”  

“Yep.”

You share a look - one that says more than all the words you’ve ever spoken, that threads together all the silly laughter, narrowed stares, (written) flirtations.  It settles between the two of you, filling the spaces with something akin to cotton, light and airy and soft.

The desire to speak lingers, hidden just beyond the cotton candy dusting.  Should you?  Shouldn’t you?  You still have no idea what he’s doing here, a street urchin making his rounds on the campus village.  

He beats you to it.  “Can I walk you back to your dorm?”  

You don’t think you could want anything more.  “Sure.”

Silence falls again but it’s comfortable, a caress rather than a crutch.  The grounds are surprisingly quiet - wayward students on their way to the library or heading home from lectures.  There are no picnic blankets spread across the grass, no gaggles of girls dressed in school colours.  It feels like the first day of fall, change sitting heavy in the air. 

“So—”  You start.

He finishes,  “do you wanna go on a date with me?” 

That’s surprising.  (Or is it?  You’re not really sure.)  You nearly trip over your own two feet in your haste to look at him, entire body swivelling on the spot because apparently you can’t just turn your head like a normal person.  Something something all or nothing. 

“What?”  

“Do.  You.  Want.  To—”  He’s being insufferable for the hell of it.  You can see it in his eyes, glossy things shining down at you like he’s got the entire fucking nightsky hung in them.  

“Not if you keep that up,”  you retort, though you both know you’re lying.  You’ve been waiting - wishing, wanting - for this moment since the day you laid eyes on him.  Since Yuri had elbowed you so hard in the ribs you’d thought you’d be bruised for days, since Jae had rambled on and on for his entire shift about the cute new bunny who’d come in that morning.  Since that very first wrongly spelt name on his plastic cup and every visit since.  

“Is that a challenge?”  

“You won’t get it in.”  

He scoffs, loud and drawn out, cheek rounding with disbelief at your disbelief.  How can you possibly doubt him - school basketball star and all-around athletic freak of nature? 

“What do I get if I do?”  The ball rests in his palm, poised to be shot through the hoop, sunk without making contact with the rim.  He’s confident - he’s done it a million times.  

“A pat on the back?”  As much as you tease him - loop mockery around nearly every syllable you speak, you’re endlessly supportive, already carrying the fruits of his labour under your arms.  A Pikachu shoved haphazardly into the purse slung across your body, a Snorlax tucked under your arm at an awkward angle that crushes his poor head, a Sylveon tucked into the side pocket of his joggers.  (The arcade was really into Pokemon, apparently.)  “Me saying thank you?”

“Not good enough.”  He leans in close - those big galaxy eyes practically swallowing you whole - and taps a single finger upon your nose.  It makes your nostrils flare, an itch blooming under his touch.  “Gotta sweeten the deal.”

You must look hilarious because Jungkook’s biting back a smile, smirking down at you.  Then, all at once, without breaking eye contact, he’s extending his arm, flicking his wrist, and— swish!  

In goes the ball, leaving him with a perfect score.  

“I want you to stay the night.”

You think he’s joking.  He must be joking.  This is your third date.  

But he’s staring at you like he’s completely serious, gaze expectant, lips pursed around something that reads like a smile but has your heart doing a strange little one-two step in your chest.  It soars for a moment, high above the clouds like the string orchestra of a choral work - Beethoven’s Ninth in D minor. 

“Are you propositioning me, Jeon Jungkook?”  It’s the same reaction he always has when you say his name: a twitch of his ear, the corner of his bottom lip quirking and then resetting, eyes so sparkly it’s almost absurd.

“No.  I’m just telling you what I want.”

“Huh.”  You should say no.  Guys like him - with charm that oozes out of every pore, whose offhanded smiles break more hearts than you ever have - are almost always bad news.  Too sweet, too funny, simply too much for your feeble heart to take.  

“Is that a yes?”  He’s got you in his clutches - a viper rather than a hare, with a smile so dangerous you’re paralysed by just the sight of it.  (Who needs venom?)

Your words catch in your throat, stick to one another like the deformed gummies at the bottom of the movie theatre bag.  What comes out isn’t what you expect.  “Okay.”

Damn you.  Damn him.  Damn how good he smells and the big dumb grin that spreads over his lips, sunshine in human form, undeniable and warm and cute enough to start a war over.  (That’s probably what’s happening - a vicious battle between your head and your heart.)  

Damn his stupid thumping foot that you can make out over the sound of the video games, the boisterous din.  It’s so cute you can’t help yourself from smiling, mouth pulling and pursing around the delight that begs to be freed.  

“Cool,”  he says, and you almost think that’s not very cool.  He’s so nonchalant, cavalier about it as if it means nothing.  You’d be bothered if you felt like you didn’t know him so well - hadn’t learnt his idiosyncrasies over the last two months.  

How he looks when he laughs really hard, his slightly too-big front teeth taking up all the real estate in his mouth.  How he sounds when he’s tired (groggy, with a lisp that rarely sees the light of day otherwise) or when he’s told he’s wrong (pouty, with his bottom lip jutted out so cutely you want to scream).  How he runs every morning, hits the gym every night, and eats double your protein because fitness, bro!  How his cheat meal of choice is soy garlic fried chicken from the place off-campus and he hates tangy, tart desserts (your lemonade lip gloss not included, he insists).  How he can’t sleep if he’s too hot - which he often is - and he spends way too long combing through his ears with a specialty brush he doesn’t let anyone touch.  How he’s secretly raindrops and gummy bears and hand holding in the car, so much more than his high school superlative of most likely to grace the cover of GQ.

You wonder, because you know those things, does that make you special?  Does it make you immune to the heartbreak that you swear you imagine whenever your mood drops (not often, but often enough)?  

You hope so.

“Let’s go shoot guns?”  He’s tearing you from your reverie, planting an open-mouthed kiss to your temple.  It’s sloppy and not very refined, much less suave than what you’d expect from your school’s soccer captain (and basketball small forward and swim team stand-in).  You suppose that’s why you like him so much - because he’s always surprising you, keeping you on your toes. 

“Let’s.”  You agree, letting your date drag you toward the Time Crisis machine.  It’s blissfully unoccupied, allowing the two of you to slide into place.  He takes the blue gun, you the red.  

He squeezes your hip when you take up position, one eye squeezed shut as you look down the barrel of the plastic weapon.  “Better not let me die.”

“Better not get shot,”  you return.  

He doesn’t listen - failing halfway through the helicopter scene, his shot missing and resulting in some sad miserable death in the form of Continue? blinking across the screen.  Neither of you mind that much though.  He occupies himself on his phone, free hand tucked into the back pocket of your jeans.  You play better when he’s not shouting terrible call-outs, nearly crashing into you because he gets so into it.

(How he’s never got a concussion on the basketball/soccer/etc. field before, you’re not sure.)

By the time you’re done - a good five minutes later, you think - Jungkook’s growing restless, tugging at your belt loops enough that you stumble with every shot, nearly knocking yourself out when you have to steady yourself on the centre console.  

“Kook!”  Your glare is barely that, too affectionate to dissuade him from his childish antics.  

He pulls you forward, traps you between his thick thighs, tattooed hands settling comfortably on your hips.  “Let’s go home.”

“Someone’s in a hurry.”

Of course, he doesn’t deny that.

It’s not the first time you’ve been over.  Not even your second or third.  You’ve met up with him before his games, thrown his jersey overtop and helped him wrap his fingers before hitting the court.  You’d even had to grab his cleats for him once, running across campus as he did drills in his socks as punishment.

This time feels different.  You know why but it doesn’t make it an easier pill to swallow.  It lodges somewhere in your throat, makes it hard to breathe when you kick off your shoes and tuck them neatly beside Jungkook’s.  

“Are you hungry?”  He’s already in the small kitchen, glancing over his shoulder at you as you linger in the adjoining hallway, bag halfway over your head.  

“I’m good.”  You are, really.  You’d eaten one donut too many at the arcade, indulged in a little too much disgusting nacho cheese goodness.  You don’t really understand how your date’s still hungry, a cucumber crunching between his teeth when he turns back to you. 

Standing there, vegetable devoured in quick, decisive bites, he looks every inch the French lop bunny he is.

You reach him in the same instant he finishes his midnight snack.  Arms fold around you like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing, head dropping to rest comfortably upon yours.  Like this, his ears tickle your cheek - velveteen fur lost to the silk of your hair.  “Are you tired?”  

Another no comes - spoken into the fuzzy fabric of his sweater - and he hums above you, whole frame rattling with the noise.  

“No bed then?”  

At least he’s transparent, you think.

“One track mind much?”  You’re only teasing.  A part of you looks forward to… whatever it is that sits over the horizon, lost past the creaky bedroom door and somewhere beneath his surprisingly soft sheets.  (You’d asked about them once - he’d told you his mother liked to send him housewares to remind him of home.  He was a real mama’s boy that way.)

The monster only laughs, snuggles into your hair like it’s home.  “Can you blame me?”  

You can’t do much of anything when he’s like this - so utterly adorable and enticing and good for your heart that it feels as if you’ve taken a straight dose of morphine.

“Let’s go to bed, Wookie.”  Another nickname, recently coined after you’d spent an evening watching Star Wars for the first time.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You whack him on the way to his bedroom, smack a hand over the arm curled around your shoulders.  He pretends like it hurts, howls in a way he he thinks resembles a wounded animal but really just sounds stupid.  “Not a ma’am.”

“Sir?”  He asks, just to make you laugh. 

“If you don’t shut up—”  

He pushes you through the door of his bedroom while giggling to himself, sound puffing out of his cheeks.  “Don’t be mad, kitten.”  The two of you drop to the bed, a tangle of limbs and silken fur and squeaking laughter.  “You’re so purr-ty when you’re annoyed.”

He’s doing it again.  Dropping those stupid cat puns that make your nose wrinkle, ink-tipped ears folding back against your head.   

“I think I’m hiss-terical, don’t you?”  

Face adamantly buried into his sheets, you don’t give him the time of day.  You don’t even care that your mascara is probably rubbing off against the charcoal fabric, lipstick tint doing potentially irreversible damage.  He knows how unfunny you find these jokes, how you’ve heard them your whole life and roll your eyes so hard your optic nerve might sever every time you face another.  

What’s the point of sharing your pet peeves with him when all he does is lean into them?  Use them against you like it’s the cool thing to do.  Make you wonder what you’d seen in him when he was just another customer, another boy in Seoul National indigo and bedhead so dishevelled it begged to be managed.  

(You’re not sure why you’re so irritated suddenly, caught in the clutches of a moodswing as you curl into your side and ignore his bad jokes.)

Stupid Jeon Jungkook.  Annoying, silly, too-cool-for-his-own-good Jeon Jungkook.  

Jeon Jungkook who makes you second guess your choices, leaves you breathless and confused with just one dumb look.  Who has convinced you into his bed and teases you mercilessly, snickering to himself as his foot bounces against the floorboards because he finds himself that funny.

“Baby?”  The pet name comes, presses itself past your curtain of hair and invades your thoughts.  

You say nothing, adamantly faced away.

He doesn’t like that, sneaking his hands around you and cradling you into his chest as if that’ll lighten the mood.  (It does, a little bit, but you don’t tell him that.)  “Don’t ignore me,”  he mumbles, warmth breath tickling your ears, fingers dancing over the rungs of your ribs as if they’re ivory and not bone, playing a tune only he can hear.

“Stop with the shitty jokes,”  you retort.  You’re being difficult - can feel the vinegar turning your blood even as he tries to will it all away.

You feel the intake, the rise and fall of his broad chest.  You can only imagine how hard he’s biting his tongue, careful to keep his next errant pun at bay.  People don’t tell him no - only you.  Maybe that’s why you do it, to remind him you’re not just like everyone else.  

“Sorry.”  

You don’t tell him to show you how sorry— but he does anyway.

You’re astounded by him, utterly entranced by the way he moves.  How power runs the length of his frame, manoeuvres each of his limbs and turns your own to jelly.  

He’s got you face down, ass up, hands cradling your hips like they’re his home and he can’t bear to let go.  Every upward stroke feels like heaven - feels like a million lifetimes of pleasure you can barely wrap your thoughts around.  He’s impossibly big, thick and long.  The first thought you’d had when he’d stripped his black Calvin Kleins was pretty.  

You realise now there’s nothing pretty about him.  He’s filthy - the devil come to collect as he fucks you across his bed, nearly loses you to the pillows at the head with each snap of his hips.  (What they said about rabbits was true, you think.)

“B-Bunny,”  you sob, scratch over cotton that’s worn soft and smells exactly like your favourite sweater of his.  The linens are defenseless, tangled up and wrinkled with each flex of your fingers, bunched up within your palms every time he buries himself like he’s looking for the answer to life, thinks he might find it within the fluttering walls of your pussy.

“Not my name.”  When he sounds like this, he’s more predator than prey, a thousand volts of electricity shooting up your spine.  He’s demanding and unrelenting.  It makes your head spin.

“Wook—”  

“Not.”  Bunny teeth are just as painful as a feline’s, doing their job as they dig into the flushed skin over your back, marking his territory with two prominent indents right between your neck and shoulder.  “A.”  He ruts into you as if he’s got something to prove, snaps his hips to a beat you can’t keep up with.  “Wookie.”  Grips you so tight you might snap, red blooming beneath his hands.

You sob under him, drool against the pillows because you can’t seem to keep your mouth shut.  (You feel like Jungkook post-win, spewing nonsense as he prattles on about game winning plays with his teammates.)

“K-Kookie.”  It’s what he wants to hear - hits him right in the chest, a bull’s eye to the thing that beats wildly and in tandem with your own.  

His rhythm stutters.  The bed is shaking and not because he’s practically breaking the weak wooden frame.  No, his foot’s thumping, bouncing across the sheets even as he tries to regulate the roll of his hips, return it to the assured, teeth-numbingly good tempo it’d been at.  

It doesn’t work.  You love it anyway.  Like it more, because it means he’s just as affected by you as you are him. Your heart sings, leaps out of your chest on hummingbird wings, and dances around your head.  You’re a goddamn cartoon - Pepé Le Pew in ragdoll form - animated pink shapes circling like a crown.

You don’t care.  You can’t.  Not when he plasters himself to your back and asks you to say it again, begs you to tell him how good he is, tells you how he wants to make you his.  

Who cares if it’s three dates in, if your meeting was cliched and silly and he’s the campus heartthrob?  

You don’t - because he’s yours and when he flips you onto your back and you curl your fingers into his hair, it’s your name he stutters out.  It’s you who has him coming apart beneath your hands, the feel of his ears like velvet, the little whines he huffs growing louder each time you tug at the base.  It’s you who knows what he sounds like as he falls to pieces, throws himself against you as if gravity demands it.  It’s you who holds him to sleep, whose skin acts as a canvas for the doodles he traces as he drifts off.  

It’s you and it’s him and that’s enough.

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @snackhobi​ @codeinebelle​​

[eyayah-oya]

To Hold You Close Again

Clone Ship Week | Day 5 | Reunion | @cloneshipweek

Fives/Echo

Rating: G

Warnings: none

Ao3 link

           Fives wasn’t sure what to think when Healer Knight Eerin (as she demanded she be called instead of General since he refused to call her Bant) told him that he was needed in the hangar by mid-morning. When he’d asked about it, Knight Eerin just shrugged her shoulders and blinked her big, luminous eyes at him.

           “It’s the will of the Force,” she’d said, much to Fives’s annoyance.

           “Karking Force osik,” he grumbled as he made his way through the mess and clutter of the hangar.  Far too many ships needed repairs after the toll the war had taken on the Temple’s fleet.  He swore extra loud when he stubbed his toe on a stray metal part, only stuttering to a halt when he noticed the youngling (Initiate??  Small child.) standing nearby, staring at him with wide eyes. He apologized and shuffled awkwardly over to the landing pad.  Maybe this was where he was supposed to go?

           Fives was still on light duty, otherwise he would gladly be out there helping his brothers clean up after the war.  But he’d taken a blaster bolt to his chest and actually died on the warehouse floor before General Skywalker had done something with the Force and restarted his heart.  He’d been taken to the Halls of Healing and placed in a healing trance for two weeks in the same room as Tup.  But Tup had been discharged two days ago, free from the fear of the Kaminoans trying to dissect him, leaving Fives alone in his recuperation.  Fives had only been released from constant bed-rest last week, and he was not going to push his luck with the Jedi Healers by pushing himself past his limits.

           Still, Fives had absolutely no idea why Knight Eerin had decided to send him on a wild-wampa chase in the hangar of all places.  Maybe some brothers wanted to talk to him?  Or a group of padawans or younglings?  Or maybe he needed to brief a commander from the far fronts of the war on the chips and help them implement a schedule to remove all of them from his troopers’ heads.

           A ship swooped down dangerously and landed on the pad it was directed to.  If Fives wasn’t absolutely positive that General Skywalker wasn’t off playing house with Senator Amidala all day, he’d say that the ship was some hunk of junk the General had found and decided to fly to the Temple.  When a team of Healers practically flew past him towards the incoming ship, only then did Fives wander over to observe.  He was curious who had returned and what kind of injuries would require the presence of half the Temple’s Healers.

           Knight Eerin waved at him as she readied a stretcher. Her smile was tight with worry, but no less genuine towards Fives.  She was nice like that.  (And she told the best stories about Generals Kenobi, Vos, Unduli, Fisto, and a few other Jedi.)

           Making sure to stay out of the way, Fives leaned against the wall as the ramp lowered.  Rex, Jesse, and another vod Fives didn’t know (at least, he assumed they were vod’e since they wore clone armor) rushed out with Commander Cody laid out on a stretcher between them.  Rex talked quietly with Master Che, likely explaining what injured Cody to the point that he’d need to stay in the Jedi Temple to heal.

           Fives pushed off from the wall and walked towards the group, ready to ask how he could help.  He was nearly to Rex, when Kix started walking down the ramp, his arm around a vod who had three missing limbs and far too much metal attached to their body. Fives froze mid-stride, eyes wide and unbelieving as he stared at the vod.

           It had been nearly a year since he’d last seen Echo, but he knew his riduur’s body better than his own.  The old scar slashed across their ribs was from Kamino when Cutup fell off his pod and took Echo down with him.  The blaster wound on their hip bone was from their first mission with the 501st on Felucia.  More than the scars, however, Fives recognized Echo’s eyes, a warm brown that always seemed to be glinting with joy or love or mischief.

           “Echo?”

           The name tore from Fives’s lips like a prayer to the Force. It was barely loud enough for Fives to hear, let alone anyone else in the loud hangar, but something must have alerted the vod, because their head jerked up to look directly at Fives.

           “Wha—Echo!  What are you—oh,” Kix stuttered when Echo pushed away from him to hobble down the ramp towards Fives.

           Oh Ka’ra, it really was them.  Fives stumbled forward until he stood at the bottom of the ramp, staring as his riduur stumbled awkwardly towards him.  As desperately as Fives wanted to tackle Echo in a hug right there, the pale skin, sunken stomach, prostheses, and other bits of metal stopped him.  Instead, he waited for Echo to come to him.

           “Fives!” Echo sobbed and threw themself at Fives, who gladly caught them and pulled them close.

Every thought and worry about Echo’s condition flew out of Fives’s mind and was replaced by the euphoria of being able to actually hold them in his arms again. He’d never expected to see his riduur, his sweet cyare, again in this life, but they were alive!  Echo was alive!

           “Echo!” Fives sobbed, pressing his face tight against his riduur’s shoulder.  “I thought you were gone!  I thought you died!  How are you here?”

           Echo only gave a shuddering cry against Fives’s shoulder. Their legs crumpled beneath them, and Fives carefully lowered them to the floor, terrified that he’d somehow hurt his riduur more by moving too fast or gripping too hard.  It was only once he was seated on the cold hangar floor with Echo in his lap, did Five realize that he was crying too.

           “Echo—Echo—Echo—Echo!” He chanted his cyare’s name, unable to fully express everything he was feeling.  Fives was horrified to realize that he’d left his riduur—his living riduur—on Lola Sayu to the mercy of the Separatists. They’d been captured, Fives had no doubt, and forced to endure unimaginable horrors.  And he hadn’t even thought to look for Echo.  He just assumed they were dead.  But Echo was alive!  Fives actually got to hold his riduur in his arms again, could feel the way their chest expanded with every breath and the beat of their heart.  Echo was alive and Fives didn’t have to live without them again.

           He was thoroughly content enough to just sit on the floor of the hangar and never let Echo go, but Echo had different plans.  They pulled back just enough to slot their lips together in a wet, desperate kiss.  Their tears mingled, and Fives could taste the salt with every shift of his lips against theirs.  His nose was running—it always did when he cried—and Echo’s metal implants were digging into some very uncomfortable bits, which was sure to leave some interesting bruises.  Echo’s skin was cold to the touch, and he could feel every bone in their body instead of the gorgeous expanse of muscle they used to have.  Fives was struggling to breath steadily, still not entirely healed from his run-in with the Coruscant Guard and he kept having to break away to breathe deeply.

           He wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

           It was the perfect kiss.  It said “hello” and “I missed you” and “I love you, never leave me again”.  Every desperate press of their lips and hitched sob told tales of heartache and aching loneliness they’d both suffered while apart.  Every caress and tight squeeze spoke volumes of how they needed each other, how happy they were to see each other again.

           Eventually, the kisses shifted from open-mouthed, desperation to soft brushes of their lips.  Fives held Echo close, their foreheads pressing together and their noses brushing with ever minute shift of their bodies.

           “I’m so sorry,” Fives whispered.  “I should have gone back for you.  I should have looked for you.”

           Echo shook their head.  “No, it’s not your fault.  You couldn’t have known I was still alive.  I didn’t even think I was still alive when they took me.  You are not allowed to blame yourself for what happened to me, just like I can’t blame myself for not being there to protect you.”

           Fives laughed quietly and desperately, though there wasn’t anything funny about what Echo said.  The pure relief, the horrors of the last year of the war, his own close brush with death all bubbled out of him in the only way it could since he’d already sobbed most of his tears onto Echo’s shoulder.  It took far too long for him to compose himself, helped by Echo’s soothing promises and words of comfort.  They carded their fingers through his hair while their other limb pulled Fives closer. The laughter turned to hitching dry sobs, and then tiny whimpers.

           With a sniff, Fives drew back and looked Echo in the eye, holding their hand and prosthetic gently.

           “I love you,” Fives said with the same kind of unshakeable certainty he’d had the very first time he’d admitted his feelings for Echo. “I love you so much, Eyayah.  Don’t leave me ever again.  You’re not allowed to leave me ever again.”

           Echo chuckled wetly and leaned against Fives’s shoulder again.  They looked exhausted and pained.  They also looked content for the first time since they’d been pulled out of the cryogenic chamber.  Echo pressed a kiss to Fives’s collarbone and vowed, “I’m not planning on it. Darasuum.”

           “Darasuum,” Fives echoed.

           A throat cleared, and Fives jerked his head up to see Rex standing in front of them, smiling fondly down at the two (Two! Not one!) Dominos.  “We need to take Echo to the Halls of Healing, and Knight Eerin says you need to get back to your bed, too.  Master Che also wanted me to inform you that Echo will be put in your room, since you “won’t realize he has karking limits now and will injure himself by being an idiot and trying to sneak into the other one’s room”.  That’s a direct quote, if you’re wondering.”

           Fives laughed.  “Sounds about right,” he readily admitted.  Rex and Kix helped Fives and Echo climb to their feet and walk over to a hoverchair that would take Echo to the Halls of Healing.  Fives refused to let go of his riduur’s hand for one second (which might have made things a little more difficult for Kix since Echo only had one hand ((What the hell happened to Echo?)) and half an arm).

           Before Kix could start herding them off to get checked over, Rex pulled both Fives and Echo into a soft keldabe each.  “I’m really happy for you both,” he murmured, clapped them both on their shoulders, and then went back to talk to those strange vod’e.

           Master Che and Knight Eerin figured that Echo would need several surgeries to remove all the apparatuses in their body, as well as new prostheses.  It would be a long recovery, but Fives didn’t mind in the slightest.  He would support Echo in every way he could, through rough physical therapy, countless surgeries, and awful PTSD.  He would gladly help them with it all with a simple joy that Echo was alive.

           Over the coming months, the Separatists officially surrendered and the treaties all signed, the clones were given their rights, and they now had a planet they could colonize themselves.  As amazing as each of those things were, none of them filled Fives with the exquisite joy of being able to hold his riduur again. They’d get to live a happy life together and that was all that truly mattered.

[masseffecthoe]

Forbidden starfruit

Wanted to write a little one shot, plotless porn... so here’s part 1/5 :)) Some plot wiggled itself in, oops. I just wanted the reader not to be a goody two shoes, couldn’t find any fanfics, so I wrote one. Classic story.  Y/N is not evil, but definitely on the morally grey, leaning dark side. Seduction to the grey side if you will.

Spam me any ‘seduction to the dark side’ stories with OC/reader tho, Poe, Kylo, anyone. I crave MORE!

Summary: Poe meets a stranger in a bar. They bang.

Warning: uum the no pants dance. sucking the oyster.

EDIT: AHAHAHA OMG the paragraphs didn’t paste in order!!! FFS... fixed it now >.<

Probably ooc, probably some wrong tech/lore. Wrote for fun.

I like mood boards.

The bar was packed, the music loud and energizing. People were either chatting on the margins, tables full of drinks, or enjoying themselves on the dance floor. Poe checked the time again, remembering to keep his expression relaxed. The informant was almost four hours late, something must have went wrong. Or he'd changed his mind, or perhaps he never existed. It was not everyday that they received intel about the First Order from a supposed deserter - the possibilities were endless and the factors unprecedented.

Everyone thought it might be a trap, but the chances for it were dwindling by the minute. Surely if this was some kind of ploy something would have already happened by then. He took another short sip of his drink - his second cup of ardees already - trying to stall for as long as possible. His eyes wandered over the crowd again, a small smile forming on Poe's lips. It was nice to see them having fun, aliens and humans alike, no worries of the oppressions of the First Order. Or the constant pressure for duty in the Resistance. He felt like he could be a part of that, in a simple pair of trousers and a white T-shirt he could pass as one of the party goers and pretend, for just a selfish moment, that he was carefree.

A flash of red caught his attention and he turned his head, dismissing the previous heavy thoughts. The source of the vibrant color was enticing, the silky fabric of her crimson dress hugging all the right curves as the woman made her way to the opposite side of the bar. Skin glistened in the brighter lights from behind the bar. Two drinks were placed before her and he noticed she was accompanied by another woman, the pair clinking the glasses and gingerly sipping on the neon colored liquid.

Her friend whispered something in her ear and she turned towards him, piercing eyes meeting his for a split second, landing straight on him as if guided by some unknown force. It lasted but a moment, the two women giggling between them the next.

"Something caught your eye, Black Leader?" Poe let out a small sigh and shook his head ever so lightly. He was not supposed to answer and in fact, they were not supposed to use the channel at all, except for an emergency if the whole operation had turned out to be a trap. Chatting about a stranger in a bar did not sound like an emergency. Still, a silly smile played on his lips. How long had it been since he'd done something so... mundane, like going out drinking and meeting a woman who was not also his colleague in the resistance. "Heads up, she's coming your way."

Poe panicked for a moment. He was on a mission! Even if the chances of the informant coming were close to none and at that point and they were about to call it a day, he was still on duty. For about another 15 minutes maybe. The woman could spook the mole, or worse, get caught in some twisted First Order plot that made him waste time and credits in a bar on some nondescript outer planet... Ok, there was probably no evil plot and a beautiful woman was drawing closer.

"Hi. Mind if I sit?" She gestured to the stool beside him. Her voice was smooth and pleasant and she seemed to strain a bit to be heard over the noise. She was pretty, but there was something more to it, something in the way she stood tall and proud, those sharp eyes, playful and wise at the same time.

"I'd be a fool to refuse." Her smile widened and she sat gracefully on the cushion, his eyes immediately drawn to her backside. He snapped them back to her face, but the all-knowing smirk on her plush lips told him he did not go unnoticed.

"I'm Y/N." He reached to shake the outstretched hand, her skin soft against him, but she had a good grip, not as delicate as he'd imagined. His name passed his lips before he could think of an alias, or a reason to use one.

"Poe." He could almost hear Temmin's scoff on the other end of the comms, even if they hadn't been turned them on.

"Nice to meet you, Poe." She almost purred his name and he had to remind himself that they were on a Resistance mission. Focus! "Now tell me, who had the audacity to stand up a guy like you?" He raised an eyebrow, but before he could ask she continued. "I saw you coming in a while ago. Was mustering my courage to come over, but you looked like you were waiting for someone. Didn't want to cause any trouble." Somehow he doubted the last part. He couldn't place the mischievous little glint in her eyes.

"Not used to being the one to make the first move?"

"On the contrary. I've learned in life you have to seize what you desire." Her eyes traveled slowly across him, right hand playing with the rim of her glass.

 "You risk someone else stealing it from right before your eyes. Like I'm doing right now, I suppose. Your date missed the chance, and here you are with me instead."

"Turned out in my favor I'd say." He let his own gaze wander, from the soft features o her face, down the curve of the neck and all the down her low cut of her dress, the valley between her breasts exposed to him.

"We shall see. We've barely met after all, but the night is young." It really wasn't that early anymore, midnight was just hours away. "Tell me about yourself, Poe."

"What would you like to know?"

"Are you a local? You don't look like it, though." There was that look in her eyes again, playful but observant, not letting anything escape her.

"I'm not, I'm from Yavin."

"Long way from home." He shrugged, sipping his drink to give himself time to find an excuse. He'd already given his real name, probably shouldn't follow with 'Resistance pilot' right after. 

"I'm a freighter pilot."

"Ah, hauling goods across the galaxy. You must have seen so many place!" He was not expecting her to be so enthusiastic about it, but he welcomed the attention. For once someone was interested in just him, not the star pilot of the Resistance.

"You wouldn't believe half of them." She scooted over, or maybe he just thought she did, wished it so, but she felt closer nonetheless, lashes fluttering as she fixed him again with her eyes. Her voice was low, like they were sharing a secret, despite the music still blasting around them in the bar.

"Well, what it the strangest place you've seen?" He tried to quickly excluded some of the more famous ex-Empire location and obviously Resistance related ones, but truth was he'd only ever traveled for his work. It was fighting the First Order here and looking thought jedi sites there, endlessly searching for a trace of the Luke Skywalker, one day after the next, it was always related to the conflict between light and dark.

"Probably Telos. The sheer determination to build up a chunk of a planet just to keep it together... it was an impressive sight, motivating." She hummed nodding her head.

"I've always wanted to travel and see everything. So many different ecosystems, cultures, creatures... I get a little sad when I think I'm never going to be able to discover them all."

"You travel a lot then?"

"When the job allows me." She paused and bit her lower lip, drawing Poe's eyes like a magnet. "I'm a glorified errand girl, but I get away with some little excursions." She leaned a little closer still, he could see a faint scar right below her eyebrow, easily missed with a trick of the light. He could feel the genuine excitement in her voice. "I strayed a bit off course once to this planet in the Belderon sector, Lola Sayu. Don't think 've seen anything quite like it... half of it is missing, blown up ages ago, but the atmosphere formed around the missing part, encapsulating it. It made this giant ball, yellow and purple mashed together.

"The Belderon sector? What were doing all the way there?"

"Ok, ok, I strayed a lot off course, like a week maybe, but I just had too see it."

"Seize what you desire..."

"Exactly! We only have one life and we never know when it might end. I plan to make the most of it." Poe stared at the woman for a long moment. She was bright and smart and oh, so beautiful - it was more intoxication than his long forgotten drink. A mouthful of fresh water after days in the desert, her view of the world, simple but joyful, gave him a surge or energy, of hope. Temmin's voce in his ear was low, but the words were exactly what Poe needed to hear.

"You deserve a break, Poe. Our contact ain't coming and we are to leave only in the morning. See you at the ship tomorrow. Black Two, out."

He wasn't sure who leaned in first, but one moment her hand was on his thigh and the next his own hands were cradling her closer, pulling her off her stool and onto his lap. His senses were assaulted all at once, the loud music, the sweet taste of her mouth and the flowery perfume he hadn't notice before. Her lips were soft but the kiss was relentless, both devouring one another, her body pressed so close to his.

She smiled, a little curve of her lips that stirred things in him, that promised passion and a reckless abandonment, and took his hand to pull him along. He craved for more, more kisses, more skin, so he followed without a second thought. She skipped across the street and they hastily made their way to her room on the first floor, stealing kisses in the doorway and on the stairs.

He pressed her against the door as she was locking it, her ass pushing back deliciously. His mouth fell on her shoulder, hands going up her sides, slightly pulling on the fabric of the dress, making her body shiver in anticipation. The damn thing had to come off. Her arms lifted as if thinking the same, so he backed up and pulled the dress over her head with ease. His fingers traced the expanse of her back and hooked on her lace thong pulling it slightly. With a small gasp she turned, eyes dark with lust, only in heels and the flimsy little piece of red lace. Poe couldn't remember a time he had been more turned on.

He kneeled and lifted her leg over his shoulder with little warning. She gasped as his fingers traced the lace, already seeping wet and ready. The thong was pulled aside and his mouth was on her, sucking and biting eagerly, his tongue circling her bud, lapping at her flowing juices. She moaned loudly, her fingers twisting in his hair.

"Not fair..." She panted from above, but her hips bucked towards him. He smirked and pushes a finger inside her, then a second, lifting his head to look at her. She was gorgeous, ragged breaths and knees trembling as he pumped his fingers vigorously, thumb stroking her clit. The obscene sound of her moans and dripping pussy filled the small room, tantalizing. He got up, mouth clasping over a nipple and she arched her back pressing to him, head rolling back against the door as the walls clamped over his digits. Poe backed up barely an inch to look her in the eyes as he brought his fingers to his mouth, needing to taste her one more time. She let out a straggled breath, half sigh half moan and roughly pulled on his T-shirt. "Clothes off. Now."

"Yes ma'am." He was happy to oblige, his dick straining in his boxers, already damp with precum. His clothes flew off unceremoniously, their hands bumping as they both pulled on the fabric, rushed to unzip his pants and pull down his boxers. Hand on his chest, she backtracked him until his legs hit the bed then pushed him on it. Her hands traced up his legs, crawling in between them, eyes never leaving her prize as she laid kisses up his thighs, nails scraping at his skin, closer to where he needed her the most. He took hold of her upper arms and spun them around so she was caged beneath him.

"Not fair." She breathed out a moan as his dick rubbed against her folds. He wanted her, needed her like air.

"Next time."

"Deal." He pushed inside her in one swift move, rougher than he intended, but she let out the most erotic sound he's ever heard, a loud and lewd groan, ringing in his ears as her body purred. Her words slurred from her pretty little mouths in short breaths.

"Shit, Poe, you're driving me, insane." She had no idea what she was doing to him. His mouth was on hers again, drowning her moans as he rocked his hips, plummeting in her core. Her shaking arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer like her life depended on it. He hooked one arm beneath her knee and pulled her leg up, spreading even more, going even deeper. It was raw and desperate, passion in its purest form. Her nails dug at the skin on his back, his name chanted from her lips like a prayer as his rhythm turned merciless. Thank the gods he'd told her his real name. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, nipping and sucking at he tender flesh.

Her eyes rolled in back of her head and his entire body shook above her as her pussy milked his dick with greed, clamping around him like a vice. Their breaths mingled, their skin sleek with sweat, but tingling still. With the last sliver or power he had, Poe rolled on his back and pulled her with him, her leg slipping over his, her hand on his chest. He was still in a daze, but looking at her she was not better, eyes half closed and unfocused, her fingers drawing lazy patters on his chest. He remember bringing her hand to his lips before falling asleep.

He woke up first, Y/N still curled over him, hair sprawled on the pillow behind her. She had pulled a silky sheet over them some time after he passed out. He smiled, lips pressing gently on the top of head. He pulled her closer, almost not believing she was real. She stirred, letting out a contents little sigh, but didn't wake up.

Poe enjoyed the feeling of her in his arms a moment longer, his brows more furrowed by the second, his lips pressed in a thin line. He had to go soon and he didn't know when he would see her again. His hand trailed the smooth skin on her back, not wanting to leave the bed, taking in every detail of her beautiful face. When the sun had finally fully risen there was no more time left.

He went to collect his scattered clothes, his mind running a mile a minute, thinking of how to tell her he was actually in the Resistance, wondering his she will react to him lying about his work, about his identity, but most importantly if she would want to see him again. Gods, he hasn't even left her room yet and he was already dreaming of when he'd hold her in his arms next. Poe smiled, he felt like a teen again, the only care in the world the affection of his lover.

But the world was cruel and he was not a silly boy back on Yavin. He found his T-shirt thrown all the way near her side of the bed and as he bend down to retrieve it, the holopad on the nightstand beeped loudly three times before a robotic voice boomed in the small chamber, the dark figure projecting from it chilling his blood.

"Y/N, I assume the traitor has been dealt with already. You better be on the Supremacy when I arriver to continue our training. You have an hour." Poe's breath caught in his throat, his mind so overwhelmed it first went blank then exploded with the possibilities and implications. The idea that he'd spent the night with one of the First Order's top assets... Did he steal something off him? Had it been a trap? 

His eyes fell on the holopad again, the blinking light showing she had a message. From fucking Kylo Ren! She was training with Leia's kid, she was dark side.

She was evil.

But she couldn't be, could she? 

Poe was so lost in thought he didn't even hear her as she stretched in bed behind him, the yellow glint in her eyes catching in the morning sun as her gaze fell on him.

Chapter 2 >

[inkrabbit]

The Yearbook

This is an older story, little over 2 years old, but the next shipping story for Sucker will revolve around the suggestion by Vance. Also I think Bully deserves a bit more content on here.

Pete frowns slightly as he stares down at the yearbook's generic cover. He'd had the thing for over a couple days and no one's come around to sign it. He didn't really go out and ask people to sign, either. He figured he was too much of a loser to ask the other students, or even teachers to sign his yearbook. And the thought of this made his frown worsen. However, when the bell finally rang and the few students who had stayed for the remainder of their English finals got up to leave, he met a smiling Mr. Galloway, beckoning him over. He figured the man was just drunk and wanted to give him a lecture about being more social and whatnot his sophomore year.

"Ah, Peter! How are you?" Mr. Galloway greets, his nose redder than Rudolf the Reindeer.

"I-I'm fine. What did you need?" he questions. With a warm smile, the man waves his hand, gesturing to the yearbook still clenched firmly in his hands. Hesitantly, he gives it to him, chewing on his bottom lip, anxious to see what he'll write. He watches him intently scribble away on the first page. He can see the familiar sloppy handwriting that had come back on so many assignments and tests. And when he's finally done, Galloway caps his pen and closes the book, handing it back to the student with a smile.

"Have a good summer, Peter," he tells him warmly. With a small thank you and goodbye, Pete leaves the classroom. He quickly opens the book once he's out, excited to see what the man had written.

"Such a pleasure in class. Have a good summer! Can't wait to see you come back as the official head boy with so many friends! ~Mr. Galloway"

It's short but really sweet. Galloway had always been one the coolest teachers at Bullworth, even if he was a drunk. He appreciated the message.

Walking out of the main building, Pete decided to take one last lap around campus before he sheltered himself inside his dorm room all summer, seeing as his parents didn't really send any letters saying how they missed him and couldn't wait for him to come home. And not even after a few steps away from the last stair was he met with Russell, the town's biggest – and scariest – junior. He could feel himself tremble at the sight of the bully.

"O-oh. H-hey, Russell," he greets timidly, giving him a nervous smile. The teen just grunts, though a grin spreads across his lips and for a moment, he's terrified he's gonna beat him with his yearbook.

"What that?" he questions with his poor English skills as he points to the book.

"This? Just my yearbook," he replies, acting nonchalant about it with a soft chuckle. Russell extends his hand, motioning his fingers for him to give it over. He's reluctant to do so, but he knows what will happen if he doesn't obey. So with a sick feeling in his gut, he hands the bully his yearbook. He just looks it over before staring at Pete.

"Got pen?" The question stuns him and the expression on his face says it all. Russell starts laughing as the younger teen fumbles to find a spare pen for him to use. He takes it softly from his hand, too, instead of snatching it away like Pete had anticipated. He stands there completely dumbfounded as Russell scribbles away and he wonders what he'll say. He's sure it'll be nothing but broken English and poorly spelled words, but the thought meant so much to him. Russell, the leader of the bully clique, was signing his yearbook, and not stealing it! After a bit of waiting, the junior hands it back with the same grin, but something else in his eyes that he couldn't catch onto.

"Thank you so much, Russell!" he speaks as the book is handed back to him. There's just a soft grunt and he waves, giving him a small wink before walking off. Pete's confused by the action until he looks down at what's been written.

"I'll see you over the summer, Pete. Don't be such a stranger to everyone when the school year starts up again, okay? ~R."

No way. No way did Russell Northrop, the walking caveman himself, sign his yearbook with such beautiful handwriting and perfect spelling. Not to mention how nice he was about all of it. Pete can't keep the smile off his face and he holds the yearbook close to himself. He feels all giddy and if he didn't want to look like anymore of a loser, he would've let out a squeal. But this still perplexed him. Russell wasn't smart – not that anyone knew anyways. Where did this come from? Did he have a sudden epiphany that he wanted to be smart? Or was it all an act?

Either way, he still felt great about it and he made his way around to the side of the school. His trip was cut short when he noticed the whole greaser gang walk his way, though, their newest member grinning at him.

"Pete! I've been looking for you!" He's surprised to hear that someone wanted to see him and without, what he assumed and hoped, malicious intent.

"Hey, Vyv. Hey… everyone else..." He feels nervous when he sees Johnny look him up and down, Lola right by his side with his arm hooked firmly around her waist. "What's uh… what's up?"

"Heard you got a yearbook," Johnny speaks, though his expression doesn't change to a friendly one like Vyvyan's had. "How's 'bout we all sign it for you?"

"Y-you guys really wanna sign my yearbook?" he asks. Peanut nods, a green sharpie in hand. And that's when he notices each of them have a different colored sharpie. He can feel himself smile, especially when he notices a pale pink in Norton's grasp. "Alright! Cool!"

He hands the book over to the closet greaser, Peanut, who's quickly going to work. While this goes on, the others are either look over their friend's shoulder or chatting with him.

"Any big plans for the summer, Petey?" Vance asks, giving him a smile. He just gives him a small shake of his head. This earns him a chuckle. "No plans? Maybe you'll stop by the tenement sometime, then?"

"You'd want me over there with you guys?" he questions. Lefty steps forward, hooking an arm around him with a smile, his free hand going up to mess with his hair.

"Of course! Or else we wouldn't have asked!" he tells him with a laugh, "Any friend of Jimmy's is a friend of ours, anyways."

"Thanks," He feels lucky to know the most popular kid in school now. At least they weren't bullying him like he had expected. And he can't help but smile widely.

It takes a bit for everyone to sign the yearbook and in that time, he's talked with every greaser, even King Johnny and his Queen, Lola. They were actually really pleasant and Lord knows he wishes he could just have an ounce of cool in him like they had. Even if they dressed from another time period. And just like Lefty, Johnny invites him over to the tenement whenever he's bored and wants someone to hang out with. It's nice to feel like he has people to call friends, even if he's never really spent much time with them. And when he's gotten his book back, different colors of goodbye and good luck messages hit him. From Peanut's simple "see you next year" to Norton's "go hang with the gang whenever you're alone." He feels lucky. Ricky and Vyvyan shared the same message, just both signing their names at the end. He even notices Vance's phone number and he can feel the heat rise to his cheeks. The greaser just gives him a wave and a wink as they all walk away from him. He spends a couple minutes rereading the messages the clique had written him and, once again, he holds the book close to him. Maybe he would get rid of his shell and actually text Vance over the summer.

Walking towards the fountain he's stopped by a couple preps. Pinky and Gord stride over, their aquaberry uniforms pristine and spotless. He's worried that they're going to belittle him for being poor, especially with the smirks on their faces.

"And what's this?" Gord speaks, going to snatch the yearbook away from Pete. He just frowns, slowly cowering in on himself. "Ew. You let those poor losers sign this before us?"

Gord scoffs as he looks over the other signatures. The comment replays over and over in his head. Pinky pulls out a pen from her purse, squealing slightly when Gord finishes signing it himself. He's still just as stunned when they're both finished and he takes it back with shaky hands. The two just give him a goodbye as they continue their way to the Harrington House, talking to each other. He's almost too nervous to look, but the cursive writing catches his attention. The messages aren't the friendliest, of course, but it still makes him feel good.

"You're not the most pathetic commoner at this school. ~Gord"

"You're okay. Too bad our social circles aren't the same, or we'd totally hang out over the summer! ~Pinky"

He just smiles nonetheless, going to close his book as he makes his way for the gym. He had a couple things in his locker that weren't meant to stay in there over the summer, but he had procrastinated for so long, just trying to avoid the area. But, seeing as he didn't want to be yelled at by either Dr. Crabblesnitch or Ms. Danvers, he had to visit today.

"Hey! Look who it is!" Ted's voice makes Pete shudder and he looks the jock who's walking towards him, Damon and Juri in tow.

"Yeah, look who it is," Damon repeats, Pete biting his tongue to keep back a mean comment. "What's that you got?"

"U-uh it's nothing," he chuckles softly, going to hide his yearbook. But Juri simply goes to snatch it from his hand, reading over the previous signatures.

"Oh, dude! That the new yearbook?" Ted questions, now taking it from Juri and looking in it. "Sick! I haven't even picked up mine yet!"

"I-it's not that great," Ted rolls his eyes, thumbing through the book, commenting about how great his senior picture came out. Pete stands there awkwardly, watching them look through every page before Damon pulls out a pen. Just like everyone else, they take turns signing it. And when they're done, Juri hands him his book back, ruffling his hair just like Lefty had done.

"See you next year!" he speaks, turning to leave. Damon gives him a noogie, following his friend and Ted gives him a pat on the back.

"Do this school good, 'kay, bro?" he tells him, "Jimmy'll take care of you."

"Yeah, thanks, Ted," He watches the graduate walk away with a small smile. "Good luck in the football career!"

Ted gives him one last thumbs up before he's gone. He feels good inside, like he's finally no longer a ghost at Bullworth. He can't contain his wide grin as he goes into the gym with a pep in his step.

Finally the sun was setting, Pete sitting in his dorm room with his yearbook in his lap. He looked over the signatures he had gotten. Beatrice, Cornelius and Earnest had signed the last page on the front, a couple of the kids had signed as well, along with Eunice, Christy and Angie. Ivan had doodled in the small spaces, and Ethan used a page to draw a few ninjas. Even Michael had decorated a page full of dinosaur stickers. However, even though so many other people had signed his yearbook, he noticed how Jimmy didn't. He didn't even see the ginger! Where had he gone to?

With a soft sigh, Pete lays down in his bed, the yearbook on his dresser. Maybe he could find him tomorrow? He was tired right now and sleep sounded amazing. But as he got close to sleeping, he heard a loud knocking on his door.

"There you are, Pete!" Jimmy bursts through his door, looking around his room. "I heard you had a yearbook. Where is it?"

"On my dresser," he replies tiredly, "Why? Where have you been, anyways?"

"Out," Jimmy goes over to the yearbook and snatches it up with a pleased look on his face as he thumbs through the pages. "Man, look at you! Signatures from so many people! Finally popular, huh, Petey?"

"I guess," He goes to lay back down, watching as Jimmy heads for the door.

"I'm gonna borrow this for a few, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, the ginger's out the door and going to his own room. Pete just groans softly. As much as he liked Jimmy, he wasn't always up for how quick he did everything. But he didn't let it fully get to him as he closes his eyes once more, finally drifting off to sleep. He doesn't even hear Jimmy return a couple hours later, set his yearbook back on the dresser and wish him a goodnight.

The next morning, Pete wakes up fairly early, everyone else still asleep. The first thing he notices is the book sitting where Jimmy had left it and he smiles. Finally a signature from his best friend. But as he searches for a message, he doesn't find one. Instead, on the last couple pages, there are drawings. Portraits of him and Jimmy, along with a small one of Gary. He was still a sore spot for both, but the ginger knew Pete had liked the senior before he went crazy. And he smiles, small tears in his eyes. He had admired Jimmy's art skills, and he felt lucky to forever have his work. It's better than any message.

[infinitestarsintheskye]

Agents of Shield Series Finale thoughts (finally)

Or alt title Skye finally sits down to write this after two days of being overtired, overwhelmed and as a result, anxious! Feeling a WHOLE lot better today after a few anxiety naps and watching Phineas and Ferb on Disney + (that show is just pure serotonin I swear) 

God what can I say that hasn’t already been said. I’m so beyond happy. I have no idea what my expectations were but by god were they exceeded. I cannot say enough how happy I am. They saved the world with empathy. How utterly beautiful. The endings everyone got were all just so utterly utterly deserved. I’m still in shock really. 

If you haven’t already guessed it, I did not make it to my alarm at half past 6 on Thursday morning. I woke up at quarter past 5 after barely three hours of sleep and just could not help myself. I finished, cried for two hours and collapsed for another hour and a half. And she wonders why she’s felt like utter shit the past two days...

ANYWAY

DEKE DEKE MY WONDERFUL MY MOST DEAREST DISASTER SON!!!!!!!!! I love him so much. I know he’s happy in alt. 1983 but losing him was honestly such sweet sorrow. I had a feeling that he would sacrifice himself but I could not have guessed that it would happen in honestly such a good way. He still gets to live, gets to be the director of Shield (god help them) and I’m equally happy and devastated for him. I love Deke so much, he is very dear to me, and the money I would pay for a miniseries of him just absolutely killing it as Shield director in the 80′s with his side business of being a popstar, like the amount doesn’t exist. Also his impersonation of Fitz was so incredibly hilarious, Jeff Ward actually does a not bad Scottish accent and the IMMEDIATE adoption of the pregnant lady pose just ABSOLUTELY SENT ME!!!!!!!!!!

Mack. I’m so happy he lived. His team up with Sousa will forever give me life. Them taping goddamn chronicoms to the missiles to blast a hole in the ship, like whoever came up with that idea, you are now my favourite human on this earth. It is so supremely dumb but I love it so much. As much as there was BIG concern going into this that he was going to die, ta Henry, I never once felt worried for him. Like he never even came close???????? Also a raise to whoever put him in that big long jacket at the end like oh my god are you serious, AMAZING

Yoyo. I had NOT A SINGULAR CLUE, NOT EVEN AN INCLINE of what was going to happen to Yoyo. Her little team up at the end with Piper and Davis (DAVIS ROBO!DAVIS YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSS BICKERING WITH PIPER WE LOVE TO SEE IT) was beyond incredible. Yoyo had such a great arc this season, and I’m just so happy to see it concluded so well, plus that shot of her zooming out of the car at the end was beyond A+ it was beautiful.

May. May, wonderful May. Her appearing OUT OF GODDAMN NOWHERE TO JUST ABSOLUTELY END SIBYL IS JUST FOREVER GOING TO GIVE ME LIFE. THE CAVALRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was so intrigued with where they were going with her arc this season, like I enjoyed empath May but I was so curious to see where it was going and oh what a pay off it was. I literally shouted AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH at my screen when she put her hands into that machine and Coulson explained it, BECAUSE IT ALL JUST MADE SENSE. Also it was 100000000000000000000% her idea to name it Coulson Academy, and no one disagreed with her. I loved her little call back to S1 with her just being the pilot. In general I thought all of the call backs were very well handled and placed, nothing felt too fan servicey it was all very natural and organic bc these writers really just know what they’re about and are just so incredibly good at their jobs. ANYWAY MAY. I’m happy that she’s getting a little bit of rest from the field, she absolutely deserves it. 

Coulson. I’m not gonna lie, I wasn’t sure about Robo!Coulson when he was introduced at the end of last season, but my god am I so happy for him now. He is truly the heart of this show, the whole thing began because a stubborn group of fans refused to accept that he had died. And really isn’t that a theme that has carried us through this entire show haha? I was so terrifed for about 30 seconds that Sibyl was going to turn him against the rest of the team, so the RELIEF of May popping out of the ceiling to JUST END HER ENTIRE CAREER WAS INCREDIBLE.  The reappearance of Lola ABSOLUTELY SENT ME. I also love that after years of Coulson refusing to let Mack work on Lola, Mack just went “Fuck it” and built one from, I assume, scratch. He is going to be the best Grandpa to little Alya Fitzsimmons and you can tear that headcanon from my cold dead hands. Again, what a deserving ending. I could not be happier for him, that last shot was just perfect. 

Daisy. Oh boy, we’re getting into my heafty emotions now. I would just like to say that her entire arc throughout this entire show is one of the most incredible, most amazing and well crafted and well thought out characters arcs in television history. Watching her go from this lost little hacker with a bit of a smart mouth, to this strong and powerful LITERAL SUPERHERO has actually been a privilege and I cannot stress enough how much I have loved watching her grow and evolve over the past seven years. That being said, I am low key FURIOUS that they made me think that she was dead for even just a SECOND. I WAS SOBBING NO AT MY PHONE FOR THAT ENTIRE LITTLE INTERLUDE LIKE NO FUCKING WAY ARE YOU GOING TO KILL HER OFF AND LEAVE HER BODY IN SPACE I WILL NOT LET YOU, LET ME GO SHARPEN MY PITCHFORK I AM COMING FOR YOU. I will now invite you to imagine the look of absolute and utter joy and relief on my face when I saw she was alive. Skye/Daisy holds such a special place in my heart. Her whole thing with Sousa this season was SO UTTERLY OUT OF THE BLUE BUT SO INCREDIBLY DELIGHTFUL AND DESERVED!?!?!?!??!?!!?!? Like out of everything I think that little plot detail is what surprised me the most, and I surprised myself by really loving it as much as I did. I would have been happy if she had ended the series single but I’m so happy that she has this wonderful partner who loves her so much and has her back and just looks after her like it’s just like the most wonderful added bonus which she deserves. Sousa is also like a whole ass snack and as I have been saying in my tags for the past few weeks, DAISY GET IT!!!! I love that she ended the series with her own little family, her sister and Sousa. I just. I cannot even think about that without welling up. Daisy has a family, and she chose it and she loves them all so much. I know it was last weeks ep too but I will never get over her calling Simmons her sister. Never ever ever for as long as I live. I’m so happy for her. So beyond happy.

FitzSimmons. Here we, here we, here we fucking go. What to even say apart from big, long and loud sobbing noises, cause that’s all I have really been able to do in regards to them for the last two days. Happy isn’t a strong enough word. There is no word big enough, nor all encompassing enough to say how utterly UTTERLY happy I am that they got their most beautiful happy ending. Fitz guiding her through her memories, the second Jemma said Alya I started screaming, I just I knew that was her name, and him just being so gentle with her whilst she was remembering, like oh my heart. I excuse them everything, the lack of Fitz (WHICH WAS NO ONE’S FAULT I WILL NOT HAVE ANYTHING ABOUT THAT HERE) this season was honestly just paid back tenfold in the scenes that we got of him. His frustration IMMEDIATELY at everyone not understanding their plan was so amazingly hilarious. Simmons half remembering everything was both heartbreaking and hilarious, the scene of her asking for a supersuit like Daisy’s was incredible and both Deke and Daisy responding to her like she was a child they needed to trick into doing something for them, like yes if you come with us you’ll get a supersuit and a bit chocolate, incredible. The acting in both episodes from both IDC and Elizabeth was just truly something else. The fact that neither of them have been nominated EVER for their work on this show is nothing less than criminal. Her face when she remembered Alya. Dear god my heart. I have watched that scene of them reuniting with her at least 3000000000000000000000 times since Thursday morning. I won’t ever forget it. What a beautiful scene. What an incredible scene. “You were guarding our everything.” SHE’S THEIR EVERYTHING. THEIR UTTER EVERYTHING! I’M ACTUALLY LIKE SOBBING WRITING THIS I WILL NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER FOR AS LONG AS I LIVE GET OVER THE FACT THAT THEY LET FITZSIMMONS LIVE IN PEACE FOR FOUR WHOLE ASS YEARS, LET THEM HAVE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL, MOST PRECIOUS LITTLE BABY GIRL AND THEN LET THEM LIVE IN PEACE AGAIN I JUST!!! I HAVE WANTED THIS FOR THEM FOR SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO VERY LONG!!! (also @ marvel I’m not in a place where I want any kind of continuation or spin off at the moment but I would watch a FitzSimmons miniseries of them just being happy and domestic and working in space for 4 years. Just SOMETHING to consider) I cannot thank the writers enough for finally finally letting them have their happy ending. They have been through so much, and it was all worth it because it led them to their happily ever after and to their little girl and I just, that is everything. ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!! I have talked a lot in this post about people deserving their endings but honestly none more than FitzSimmons. Fitz playing with Alya in their little garden whilst Simmons watches with the biggest smile on her face. How perfect. I could not have dreamt a better ending for them I’m so so so so so SO beyond happy for them. And god that little girl is just the most precious. Her gleefully exclaiming “Mama!” at Simmons is the EXACT moment that I started sobbing and did not stop for the rest of the episode. Also I know they didn’t explicitly say it but they are 100000000000000% at their cottage in Perthshire, again you can pry that headcanon out of MY COLD DEAD HANDS!!! I’m just so so so so so so so so SO beyond happy that FitzSimmons got the ending that they deserved so much. They can be at peace now. I have loved them since LITERALLY day one, and I cannot imagine what would happen if I got to tell little 15 year old me how they ended up. I’m sending her good vibes to the past, I know she got them, because I never ever ever gave up on that hope for them. FitzSimmons, to me, represent so much goodness and hope and just everything I aspire to have in a relationship (without the constant separation and the death and all that fun shit), but just the utter love they have for each other. (thanks for the impossible standard to which I hold all men now JedMo). I have been on just a rollercoaster with these two characters, their relationship and each of them as individuals have taught me so much and brought me so much comfort, especially during some of the hardest times I have ever experienced. I’ll tell some of those stories one day. Not yet. I’m not ready. I’m still honestly just reeling. I have wanted A Happy FitzSimmons ending for SO LONG and I just cannot believe that we got it. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you THANK YOU. 

Writing this felt very cathartic. It’s almost been good to just get ALL OF THE EMOTIONS OUT. I think I’m actually going to take a nap now. I forget how tiring it is to be so emotional. What can I say to end this except reiterate again just how happy I am with that finale. I’m so thrilled that they gave us such a beautiful ending, it really was just a love letter to the series as a whole and to it’s message. I think it was quote from Jeff Bell that I saw and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since, because of how true it is, and really that’s why I hold this show so dear and why I have done for the past 7 years, and that is that this show is ultimately about hope. What a beautiful thing. 

[acuppellarp]

We’re excited to announce that Jeanne has decided to level up Theo Carter from a mumu minor character to a main character! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours. 

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: Jeanne Age: 25 Timezone: EST Ships: Theo/Chemistry Anti-Ships: Theo/Forced

IC INFO

Full Name: Theodora “Theo” Frances Rose Carter Face Claim: Aimee Carrero Age/Birthday: 27/July 3rd, 1991 Occupation: Personal financial assistant Personality: Cynical, protective, dedicated, judgmental, blunt Hometown: Gilbert, AZ

Bio:

There are a couple key points you should keep in mind when it comes to Theo Carter: one, only legal professionals and her mother are allowed to call her Theodora. Two, she’s the only one allowed to trash talk her brothers and will physically fight anyone who crosses that line. And three, don’t expect anything more than casual indifference from her on a daily basis. Give her a reason to care about what you have to say, or she’ll consider just how much of her time your worth before you’ve finished saying your first sentence.

Theo was the second adopted to Howard and Cecilia Carter, proceeded by her older brother (her mother’s biological nephew) and followed by her younger brother, a little boy adopted as a newborn from Vietnam a few years later. Her parents had been unable to have children of their own, and considered that a sign from God that they were meant to expand their family in the same breath as giving children a chance at a good life. That’s how they came to start the adoption process for Theo before she was even born, having been connected to her biological parents through a mutual friend and agreeing to raise her as their own. It was a closed adoption so Theo knows nothing about the people responsible for giving her life, but she can honestly say it doesn’t cross her mind much. She knows that they were both still teenagers and lacked the financial capabilities to raise her; to Theo, making her a Carter was the best thing they could’ve possibly done for her.

The early years of Theo’s life felt pretty standard, barring the occasional strange look her family would get by people who didn’t understand her hodgepodge of a family. That’s fine though, they didn’t have to understand. The Carter children grew up with a small community of people, all acting as brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles without any legal relationship. As a kid, it seemed perfectly normal, but looking back on it now, and after long talks with her parents, it feels a bit…. well, cult-y is the word Theo would use. Cecilia Carter’s father was a bit of an egomaniac with a charming personality and a hedonistic approach to life, and had been running his own church long before Theo came around. He’d amassed a small but loyal group of followers, including three wives and seventeen children including Theo’s mother. Cecilia and Howard had a massive falling out with the group over money and morality when Theo was eight, and because it had been such a tightly-knit community lead by her grandfather, the whole family was ostracized. Realizing that they were effectively exiled from their only friends and family in Arizona, the Carter parents decided to start over far far away. They settled in New York City after some deliberation

Most decent parents will tell their children that they can be anything they want when they grow up purely for the encouragement rather than an actual possibility, but Theo really could have been anything she wanted. To say she was a smart kid would be an understatement; she was labeled advanced pretty much her first day of kindergarten and continued to excel throughout her school career. She would soak up information like a sponge, and if there was something that the people around her couldn’t explain to her, she would go out and find answers on her own. Moving to New York and finding herself surrounded by more books and culture than anything Arizona could’ve provided her with. While she excelled in most areas, she found herself most caring for math, music, and literature. It was pretty exemplary of her as a person that she maintained high scores in all her subjects but deliberately put more work into the things she could bring herself to care about. If she doesn’t love something, why would she bother giving it her all versus the bare minimum?

She was bumped up more than one grade as a child and ultimately graduated high school at 16, college at 19, and had her master’s degree in accounting by the time she was 21. It’s probably a cliche that she fell into a career that circled around numbers, but it really was the obvious choice. Humanities and social sciences never mattered to her much. Facts, numbers, music, and words were reliable and definitive, much more than people and their feelings could ever be. Even with her genius level intelligence, Theo is well aware of her own strengths. Measurable things, yes. People? Not so much. A therapist might say that she has an innate need for control in all aspects of her life, and the unpredictability of humans goes against that. Ask Theo though, and she’ll tell you that she simply doesn’t have time to deal with others. She’s a busy woman.

After graduating with her master’s degree, Theo became a CPA and was hired in at an accounting firm for some of New York City’s best. She isn’t in love with her job, but she’s good at it and it gives her a steady regularity that brings her comfort though she won’t admit that. She’s briefly considered getting a PhD, solely so people will have to address her as Dr. Carter, but jury is currently out on if that’ll give her something resembling joy. Right now, she’s stagnant, and stagnant for her means content. Work, her mini passions, and coffee are all she needs right now. Ask her if that’s still all she needs in five years time, because she’s not quite sure on that part.

Pets: A black and white rabbit named Oreo Speedwagon. The little guy mostly sticks to Theo’s room when he’s out and hoppin’ about, but Theo has told him it’s okay to bite on contact if anyone thinks about entering her premises.

Relationships:

Lola Alvarez — Theo and Lola aren’t actually related, but after knowing each other for what feels like forever, Lola is Theo’s sister in every way that counts. Lola is the one person outside of her family that Theo will defend with everything she has, and Theo trusts Lola to drag her out of her apartment should she start becoming too much of a hermit. The fact that she trusts Lola at all speaks volumes; she just hopes Lola recognizes her own worth as much as Theo recognizes it.

Blair Anderson — Theo and Blair lived together for the length of a leasing contract years ago. Somehow, despite Blair being what Theo categorizes as “sickeningly sweet”, she managed not to want to kill on a daily basis. In fact, she’d go so far as to call Blair a pleasure. Well, she said that once when no one was around to hear it, but it still counts. She appreciated Blair’s ear and passion for music, one of the few things other than numbers that Theo cares about. Theo moved out a while ago, but she still enjoys catching up with Blair if the two bump into each other from time to time.

EXTRA INFO

theo carter/@ohnotheo/let me make you rich:

Five latest tweets:

@ohnotheo: if you pronounce cabinet w/ three syllables, you’re part of the problem @ohnotheo: a girl in my niece’s class said she was uncool bc she doesn’t have fingerlings so now we’re boycotting some 5 yr old named ashlynn #cancelled #passiton #ashlynnisntaname @ohnotheo: someone - i really relate to holden caufield. me - deletes their number, chucks phone off a bridge @ohnotheo: binge watched tua, i guess i’m now the proud mother of six and the regretful mother of one #guesswhichone @ohnotheo: monthly prayer circle for betty white’s immortality, my place tonight @ 7

[sage-selfships]

Sage H. D. - Bully Self-Insert

This is my Self-Insert for Bully/Canis Canem Edit! I made the art myself and would appreciate if you didn’t use it! The Template was created by Silkvale and found here! I will post updated versions to @kitty-selfshipping so uhm yeah, follow that blog to read it when it’s totally finished or edited.

If you are interested in reading the current info about my Bully Self-Insert, please read under the cut!

Biographical Information Full Name [& Pronunciation] - Sage Holland Drage ( S AI J ) ( H AW - l uh n d ) ( d r ai j ) Meaning - Herb or Prophet, Ridgeland, Dragon Set Age - 14-15 Certified Birthdate - 12 January 1992 (not my real birth year, but shh) Astrological Sign -  Capricorn Pronouns - They/them or He/Him Aliases & Preferred Nicknames – Dumbbell - Sage might not actually like the nickname, but Mandy WIles insist on calling Sage it whenever Mandy sees Sage, so Sage is  Dragon - As some people may not be able to pronounce Sage’s surname, Sage just call themselves Dragon to make it easier for everyone. Ms. Shy - Even though Sage prefers to go by he/him or they/them pronouns, people insist on calling them ms, and many people consider them shy because of how they seem terrified of new people Puppy - A nickname Sage got from Kirby Olsen, that they claim matches their general personality Ethnicities Distant Descendants : American, British,  Dominant Descendants : Norwegian, Swedish, Danish Physical Description Hair Color - Brown Eye Color - Blue Weight – Height - Typical Clothing Wear :  Maroon or pink vest, purple skirt, blue bow, purple bow, pink shoes - School   uniform  Red stained dress and blonde wig - Halloween costume, that is supposed to resemble Carrie White from the movie Carrie Faux fur coat, faux fur ushanka - Winter attire Figure/Build - Distinguishing Features/Scars/ or Birthmarks – A mole just over their lip Explain: Tattoos: Piercings: Frequently Worn Jewelry: Choker belt around their neck Personal Information Current Living Arrangements - Sage currently lives with three of their American relatives, but also they technically live at Bullworth, in the girl’s dorm Originated from - Vestfold, Norway Traveled Territories - Hobbies -   Fears – Spiders, snakes, insects, heights, scarecrows, most of the jocks Religion/Beliefs – Atheist Why?: Sage grew up in an atheist family, as simple as that. Health Behaviors Physical Ailments/ Disabilities/ Issues – Addiction(s) [Sex, Drugs, Smoking, Alcohol, Other]  Why?: Any regular medication taken? – Medication for their Iron Deficiency and for their Hives Chronological Information Profession - Student Likes - Dislikes - Goals/Ambitions – Most Instructive/Painful/Memorable Experience - Story behind experience: Weapons/Equipment - Sage mostly fights using their hands but can use a baseball if they need to Personal Attributes Personality - Strengths - Weaknesses - Good Habits - Bad Habits - Fetishes/Strange Behaviors - Stereotype - Shy kid with few friends As you know them better(and you like them) : As you know them better(and you hate them) :   Ratings on Personal Qualities (don't go overboard make reasonable stats for your character) Physical Strength : 4/10 Sage might not regularly train, but surprisingly Sage is stronger than they seem Attractive : 5/10 Sage doesn’t consider themselves the most beautiful and mostly blames it upon their parents and grandparents for how they look Honesty : 7/10 Sage hates lying in general, but still does lie if they need to. Rule Abiding : 3/10 Sage thinks certain rules are to be broken and others are to be broken. Sociability : 3/10 Sage is quite shy when it comes to meeting new people, but if they muster up enough confidence they can make new friends. Bullworth Academy Information Reason for enrolling: Sage has lacked disiplince and Sage’s parents had relatives that lived close Bullworth, so they decided on sending them to a Clique - Standing and Rank in Social Circle  - Room Number – 4 Roommate(s)-  Zoe Taylor & Beatrice Trudeau Favourite Subject(s) – English,  & Art Why?: Sage loves English because they’ve felt so motivated and  Least Favorite Subject(s) – Why?: Favourite Teacher – Mr. Galloway & Mrs. Philips Why?: Mr. Galloway - Sage takes a liking to Mr. Galloway, mostly because he encouraged and gave Sage a warm welcome to the school, during Sage’s first day at Bullworth Mrs. Philips - Sage got a few compliments Least Favorite Teacher –  Mr. Slawter Why?: Sage is quite afraid of Mr. Slawter, mostly because he yelled at Sage during their first class Knowledgeability Language(s) – Norwegian, English Schooling Level - Grade 8-9, Expertise – Chemistry - Math - English - Geography - Sage knows a few things, like where certain European countries are, but after that, nothing more Politics/Law - Economy - Cooking/Culinary - Shop - Botany/Biology - Mythology - high / Sage knows a lot about Norrøn Mythology and enjoys learning more and more about it Art - high / Sage highly enjoys Art and feels that they know a lot about the rules about realism and perspective Photography - Sage knows how to use a camera, and what settings look good or not, so they consider themselves at a 5/10 Reading Level - Overall Intelligence Level(s) - Interpersonal and Naturalistic. Relationships Statuses   (once you list characters here, delete them from the other list near the end of this information sheet, makes things less confusing) (Also, please describe the relationships of your character with other characters) Trusted Companions Closest Friend(s) –   Milliz - “I trust her with my life. Nothing more or less to say. And might I add that her and Earnest are really freakiNG ADOREABLE?” (Jeg beklager ikke for at du er satt på denne lista, Milliz) Friend(s) -   Kirby Olsen - Despite Kirby being a jock and Sage being afraid of most of the jocks, Kirby and Sage are pretty close and    

Hated Rivals Worst Enemies – Intolerable Students - Harmless Acquaintances Tolerated Students - Tolerated Townsfolk - Hot Encounters Hinted Attractions - Crush(es) - Lover(s) - Gary Smith, Jimmy Hopkins and Petey (Ey, don’t judge me please or make comments about this please, I just ship myself with all of them :( I will also make like another post or tweet where I just describe everything from lore to headcanons about this ) Ex(s) - None Extra Information Eating Habits Omnivore/Carnivore/Herbivore – Favorite Food(s): Favorite Drink(s): Disliked Food(s): Disliked Drink(s): Added Information Proclaimed Theme Song(s) - Either Dancing Queen by ABBA or Scent – Favourite Color: Favourite Season: Favourite Animal: Sage  Favourite Music Genre: Sage can’t really choose, but they are very fond of country and Pop Most Memorable Quote – Various Quotes Through Interaction :  “ Walking around – “I sure hope Mandy was joking when he called me a dumbbell...” “I don’t know jack dritt about math, how am I supposed to get a good grade?” “Gary mentioned something about rats, wondered what he was on about.” “I’m considering joining a clique... but which one?” “ “ “ “ When the fire alarm goes off – “Stuff like this always happens when you least expect it.” “Sure hope this isn’t a drill, I don’t want my slippers to get wet again without reason.” Greetings Good Terms: “Hiya!” “Hey there, best friend!” “How ya doing, sweetie?” “How are you doing, buddy?” “Hey, anyhting fun happen recently?” “Bro! What’s up?” “Heisann!” (Norwegian for ‘Hey there’) Bad Terms: “Please leave me alone” “I rather not talk.” “Ew.” “Get out of my face!” “Leave me alone!” “Continue being around me and I’ll beat you up! Or cry!” Saying goodbye – Good Terms: “Have a good day! “See you later!” “Hope you have a good night!” Bad Terms: “”See you in Hell, I uhm mean class.” “Leave already.” “I’m getting a headache, gotta go.” “Byyeee, see you never.” When Flirted With – Good Terms: “I uhm...” “Thank you....” “Well I uhm, thank you so much! I uhm haha, we should hang out or something!” “I feel flattered. I’ll uhh have to go over there until the blushing stops.” “Continue acting this sweet and you’re going to be getting ladies really quickly.” “ “You’re such a sweetheart!” “If I were of age, I would marry you right here on the spot, but I’m still too young.” Bad Terms: “I wouldn’t say I don’t like you, but I’m not that interested.” “Not to be rude, but no.” “That better not be trying to make me blush, because it didn’t work at all.” “ “

Watching a fight – “I know I shouldn’t watch this crap, but damn it feels so right, right now!” “ Attacking – “I’m sorry!” “I have no choice in this situation, so I apologize beforehand!” “I learnt this one from my friend!” While Fighting – “I really wish it didn’t have to end with one of us being hurt!” “Ouch! Thanks, I guess!”

Chasing someone – “You can run, but you can also hide!” “Come back here! please...!” Out of breath – “This always happens....” “Why do I have to have iron deficiency? When hidden from – “ Knocked out – “ Stinkbomb explodes – “I can’t see shit!” “I should be happy I can’t smell anything from before!” Opinions on students who reside at Bullworth Academy– (in alphabetical order) Bullies   Davis White: Ethan Robinson: Russell Northrop: Tom Gurney: Trent Northwick: Troy Miller: Wade Martin: Zoe Taylor: Greasers Hal Esposito: Johnny Vincent: Lefty Mancini: Lola Lombardi: Lucky De Luca: Norton Williams: Peanut Romano: Ricky Pucino: Vance Medici: Jocks Bo Jackson: Casey Harris: Damon West: Dan Wilson: Juri Karamazov: Luis Luna: Mandy Wiles: Ted Thompson: Nerds Algernon Papadopoulos: Beatrice Trudeau: Bucky Pasteur: Cornelius Johnson: Donald Anderson: Earnest Jones: Fatty Johnson: Melvin O'Connor: Thad Carlson: Non-Cliques Angie Ng: Christy Martin: Constantinos Brakus: Eunice Pound: Gloria Jackson: Gordon Wakefield: Ivan Alexander: Karen Johnson: Lance Jackson: Melody Adams: Pedro De La Hoya: Ray Hughes: Sheldon Thompson: Trevor Moore: Preppies Bif Taylor: Bryce Montrose: Chad Morris: Derby Harrington: Gord Vendome: Justin Vandervelde: Parker Ogilvie: Pinky Gauthier: Tad Spencer: Opinion on Adults who teach and patrol at Bullworth Academy – (in alphabetical order) Miss Danvers: Miss Peters: Mr. Galloway: Mr. Luntz: Mr. Matthews: Mr. Wiggins: Mrs. Carvin: Mrs. MacRae: Mrs Peabody: Ms. Phillips: Neil: Prefects – Edward Seymour II: Karl Branting: Max MacTavish: Seth Kolbe: Opinions on People in the cities of Bullworth – (in alphabetical order) Townies Clint(aka Henry): Sage doesn’t like saying it, but they’re quite afraid of him and  Duncan: Edgar Munsen: Gurney: Jerry: Leon: Omar Romero: Otto Tyler: Residents in the city of Bullworth – Bethany Jones: Denny: Dr. Bambillo: Krakauer: Mihailovich: Miss Abby: Mr. Brekindale: Mr. Buckingham: Mr. Castillo: Mr. Doolin: Mr. Huntingdon: Mr. Johnson: Mr. Martin: Mr. Ramirez: Mr. Salvatore: Mr. Smith: Mr. Sullivan: Ms. Rushinski Mrs. Lisburn: Osborne:

[pkmnjesus]

P J a shipper? SHIP-A-THON ‘18

𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝒱𝐼𝐼

My case with the others:

Now the ships I like listed here are uncategorized by any series of the main-core anime series, such as QuestShipping. This pairing between Jimmy/Kenta (Trainer Gold’s anime counterpart) and Marina (Trainer Kris’s anime counterpart) can only be seen in the Legend of Thunder anime special. While their feelings for each other are flat out obvious, it’s nice to see a main protagonist that actually responds to a girl’s feelings for him *cough* *cough*

Other examples of unlisted pairings are Flint and Lola, Brock’s parents. They’re weird bunch if you’ve seen the anime specials they were in, but their love is definitely strong as a rock. Not even redesigning the Pewter gym to a water type gym with streamers around could break this marriage. And speaking about their son... 

The case with Brock/Takeshi: Now Brock deserves a special mention for this ship-a-thon post he is always finding for new love every day with every girl his age or older he meets. Unfortunately 95% of that he gets reject and gets his ear pulled, or poison jabbed. But there is that 5% of females that do like him (he didn’t really like the younger ones back though). And out of all that liked him back, Pike Queen Lucy from Battle Frontier was my favorite one (LuckShipping). I really got mad at Max for dragging him out in the end of that episode, where we clearly see Lucy blush. What’s funny about all of this is that she probably only liked Brock because most of the Pokémon she had at home had the same eyes (e.g. Skitty, Swinub, Snorlax) as he did xD I bursted out laughing because of that scene. On the friends side of things, he was Ash’s first big bro and chef. It’s amazing to see how close they were traveling for 3 series straight (the only companion to do so). GymShipping (Brock and Misty) had some cute moments too, but mostly goofy ones (like with Max’s ear-pulling lol). Big bro Brock also applies with May when she helps him buy for traveling supplies in Hoenn, or with Dawn giving her advice to lighten up during her times of depression. WE <3 YOU BROCK, screw all the girls that rejected you!

RocketShipping / KojiMusa (Jessie/Musashi & James/Kojirō): The favorite villain ship of the series definitely has a special place here in the others section since they were basically in every series! Take that Butch & Cassidy (I kinda ship them too) with your unoriginal motto! Along with PokéShipping, this is one of the most respected older ships in the community (as it SHOULD BE for being the longest running one TO THIS DAY). I feel like they’re already a married couple discussing plans every night before going to bed on how to catch Pikachu. This also the first adult pairing I grew up loving whether they eat, argue, cheer (in Jessie’s contests and performances), or blast off together, it’s really nice to see a mature (not really if you think about it lol) pairing over the course of 20 years in this show. Favorite moment - All the episodes with Jessebelle/Rumika (James’s childhood “friend”) in it. I remember watching the first one where they introduced James parents, and actually seeing a good side of James for the very first time outside of Team Rocket. At the end of that episode is really when the ship was sold to me. James pulls Jessie aboard the Meowth balloon, and they look into each other's eyes promising to continue to live without anymore personal commitments and resume Team Rocket operations. I’m sure hardcore RocketShippers loved that scene as much as I did. Unfortunately because of that sweet moment, they forgot about Meowth who was still in the ground running to the balloon as the episode ended xD

Meowth’s/Nyarth’s loves: Meowth has had its fair share of romances too that deserves a bit of mentioning. Meowzie was the first one he fell for, and in fact was the reason why he can talk and walk like a human! Too bad she had preferred to be with the Persian :( That episode broke my heart too because I was rooting for Meowth to succeed. After that we saw multiple occasion where he was infatuated with other Pokémon, such as Skitty, Glameow, Purrloin, and others I might be forgetting. KrazyShipping is the cat and mouse relationship he has with Ash’s Pikachu, although I really wouldn’t say there’s that much love in this relationship (gets shocked like every time they meet lol). In the end, his one true love is helping and aiding Team Rocket with Jessie and James (he loves them each of them you know it)...or fetishes with Giovanni fantasies. 

Inter-region interactions: There are some fantasy shippings people would like to see happen because of region barriers (I NEED MAX AND BONNIE TO MEET), however some came true in the form of cameos like Misty and May, May and Dawn, Brock and Cilan (FAV!! Gotta love the experienced chefs), Brock and Kiawe, or even Piplup and Oshawott (best Pokémon meeting/rivaly ever). But I would have to say that Misty and Lana’s recent interaction is worthy of praise. The two trainer specialists showcased their love and passion for water type Pokémon when they swam together finding the Gyarados that startled their group. There’s a bit of a watery rivalry in this cool and clean wet relationship (okay I’ll stop the water puns). I would definitely pay to watch a spin-off just between these two sailing the oceans of the Pokémon world together, and diving into the deepest part of the sea just to see more Pokémon. 

Movie shippings: There are a couple of movie shippings to take into account over the past 20 years, especially with the movie exclusive characters. I would have to say one of my favorite ones (besides AccordShipping that I explained in a prior post) is in Pokémon Heroes with Ash and Latias (AltoShipping...though MareShipping is the Bianca alternative term of the ship). This human Pokémon relationship is just so unique since Latias could transform to the human form of the movie’s Bianca (kind of creepy if you take advantage of that). Another one worth mentioning is CarnivalShipping in the Jirachi movie. I don’t remember much, but I know that Butler and Diane were an awesome magician & assistant dynamic...too bad Butler had evil intensions with Jirachi that made me (and Diane) lose respect for him a bit (he later redeemed himself but cmon man).

Game ships: Like with the movies there’s a lot of game shippings to take into account, but my favorites would have to be from Gen. V! I do like the pairing of Dawn and Lucas from Gen. IV and the player with Lille/Hau OR Lillie and Hau themselves from Gen. VII. A lot of obvious hints too! But the Gen. V games had AgencyShipping, FerrisWheelShipping, SequelShipping (FAV!!!) and VisorShipping. I don’t know why but the character designs stuck out to me and really enjoyed its characters emotionally. But I would definitely have to say TransceiverShipping is my favorite game ship simply because it is the first time where you can actually have a DATE OPTION IN A POKÉMON GAME. Whether if it was the male player and Yancy, or the female player and Curtis, the mysterious conversations you have with the Xtransceiver build up to the eventual date you’ll have with them. Some very, very cute stuff if you haven’t experienced it yourself. Go play Pokémon Black or White Version 2 NOW!!!

Shippings from Pokémon Adventures manga/PokéSpe: We gotta show some love to the manga side of things too! One of my favorite PokéSpe shipping include LuckyShipping (the flirting in here IS REAL), FranticShipping, ChessShipping (manga counterpart of AgencyShipping), and the pairing of X and Y (don’t know the name for that one). But SpecialShipping to me takes the cake on my favorite manga ship simply because of Yellow’s shy feelings for Red. It’s kind of like AmourShipping in a way, since Red is a bit dense in his own right to notice Yellow’s feelings AND Red and Yellow had their own childhood history before the Adventures storyline. It’s just very very adorable, and full of blushes! If you aren’t into PokéSpe, but love shipping cute characters together, you should definitely give it a read! 

KetchupShipping (Pikachu & Ketchup/Kechappu): BEST. SHIP. EVER. Favorite moment - The moment where Pikachu first laid eyes on that delicious bottle of ketchup at the Dark City episode, and licked it with cute pleasure :p

.....okay in seriousness what I really want to be talking about is PikaShipping

Of course the final Pokémon shipping I have to showcase here is between Ash/Satoshi and Pikachu of all people and Pokémon! I can’t really say favorite moment because almost every time these two interact, it is always a great moment in my book! RocketShipping maybe the longest, but this beats it by an inch because there isn’t a single episode where we don’t see Ash with Pikachu by his side. They made this show work ever since it started, and everyone around the world knows this dynamic duo since 1997! Ash leaves every Pokémon behind after Johto, BUT NEVER HIM. Everyone in the anime has had their one special Pokémon partner (Dawn and Piplup, Iris and Axew, Bonnie and Dedenne, Sophocles and Togedemaru, etc...), but it is not quite like the courageous and close bond that Ash and Pikachu share. Nothing will ever beat their Pokémon partnership...NOTHING!!!

P J’s ship-a-thon: OS | AG | DP | BW | XY | SM | Others | Non-Pkmn ships

[always-stay-in-arms-reach]

Can I get some Sugar Rush headcanons?(that's Lola Pop and Kid Cobra)

i didnt even know ppl shipped this, but the name Sugar Rush is amazing 

SEND ME A SHIP and i’ll tell you:

who wakes up first in the morning: Lola Pop, a couple of hours before KC. 

who’s the first to fall asleep at night: Lola Pop, again. KC will stay up streaming for several hours. 

what they playfully tease each other over: Lola Pop teases KC about his streams because, when he’s streaming, he’ll act all cool and big and bad. He’s a softie. KC teases Lola Pop about the silly faces she manages to make during fights or performances. 

what they do when the other’s having a bad day: Lola Pop tells some good jokes, some even managing to not be completely corny. She’s also very comforting, and will listen to KC vent all day. Whenever Lola Pop has a bad day (which is very rare for her), KC will try to make her smile with jokes, silly faces, and maybe even start up a Cheer-Up-Lola-Pop stream to get his fans to help make her happy again. 

how they say ‘i’m sorry’ after arguments: Lola Pop makes some of the best sweets in the world for KC. Kid Cobra will  stay by her side, doing whatever he can to make her happy again. 

which one’s more ticklish: Kid Cobra, and Lola Pop will tickle him whenever he’s upset, or just whenever she feels like messing with him. 

their favourite rainy day activities: Lola Pop gets KC to bake with her, although he isn’t particularly good at it… 

how they surprise each other: By spontaneously showing up during each other’s streams or performances. They mostly just watch each other during their performances/streams cheering each other on. 

their most sickening shows of public affection: Literally everything they do is sickening to watch. A million pet names, hand-holding, hugging, sitting next to each other on train or bus rides, and laying their heads against each other, and talking. 

[bedfordrambles]

Thursday

It was a Thursday. That part of the week that seemed to drag - when everyone was done with being anyway productive. Afternoons built on talks about plans for the weekend - discussions Manchester’s best pubs, clubs favouring over the team assignment you were supposed to be working on. Uni.

It’s when there’s a sudden buzz, a flashing screen - your phone. A break in the haze of boredom and stagnant conversation.

Outside. Red vines & vodka ready.

That is i’m outside if you’re in uni.. which i assume you are cos you’re a good girl ;)

But i was thinking you could come be a little bit bad for a couple hours..

A knowing smile - the series of texts. Familiar. But someone you hadn’t heard from in a while.

George Daniel, back to corrupt me more?

An almost instantaneous bounce back of;

We both know that ship has long sailed, love.

Biting down harder - the cap of your pen, faint buzz of ongoing conversation fading, replaced by his voice when you read the next message.

So.. seeing as you’ve really nothing to lose.. meet me outside? Might even be some flying saucers in it for you..

And despite his constant disappearing acts - he knew you well. Well enough to know your favourite drinks and sweets. And you’re already shoving books, notebooks into your bag. No one notices, looks up when you hurry out of the room - trying for dignified and not at all like you were rushing. Trying to shrug on a jacket whilst text, pen still hanging from your lips. Eagerness.

Any chance of some chocolate? ;)

George’s flat - a shared one with his best friend - stinks of weed. An unmistakable smell - exacerbating in his room. George never really invited girls into his room, and when he did it was in the early hours of the morning, when there was echos of gin between mouths and hazy thoughts ran parallel in heads, and names that would be long forgotten come the morning.

This was a first.

George was cool - very tall and very attractive in a nonconventional way. He used to have long hair - that made it messy when you kissed. Only a handful of times - heavy touches in bathrooms of houses where the thundering of your heart whenever he touched you, was hidden by a heavier bass flooding, reverberating through the floorboards.

Conversations were soundtracked by intricate rap that you could never keep up with and deep bass that made your veins buzz and head spin. George mumbled a lot when he spoke - unintentional but his sentences kept the same mantra as the house music, words kept the same beat as the rap.

So George’s room was a surprise. From the colour of the walls to the posters scattered around them. Some were films, some were music, and a lot less naked girls than you had expected. A stack of books - Aldous Huxley, Carl Nielsen, a few of the names that stand out, again not what you had expected. Maybe the biggest surprise - was the record player in the corner, and shelves packed with an extensive collection of vinyls.

Not a rap, dubstep CD in sight.

“They’re organised by year,” he tells you. Watching - fingers spanning over names. He hadn’t spoken since - gauging your reaction, a new dimension of him. One he didn’t have to worry about in the dark when the main concern was getting clothes off, figuring where mouths should go. Too sober - handing you the glass, lemon fanta and vodka and a half eaten red vine as an afterthought.

“Top shelf is 60′s, 70′s, 80′s, more 80′s, 90′s..” - trailing off, watching his gestures moving down a shelf with each year. He points out a few from each decade - landmarks, favourites.

The 60′s hold Rolling Stones, Velvet Underground, Beach Boys, Hendrix, Ray Charles, Jackson 5. A lot of jazz. 

70′s - Fleetwood Mac, Sex Pistols, Zepplin, Pink Floyd, The Stooges, Bowie, Queen, Joy Divison, Deep Purple, Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, The Eagles, The Clash. There’s a twitch then - a wave of relaxation when you ask about names you haven’t heard, and he explains the whole jazz fusion experiments in the 70′s, a universe aways from the age of punk rock vs new romantics you were familiar with. And it’s nice to hear his voice without the bass, the rap. It’s nice to hear his voice near combusting with passion.

He’s making eye contact by the 80′s - the glass being passed. The Cure, Peter Gabriel, INXS, Bowie, Depeche Mode, Bon Jovi, Michael Jackson, Prince, The Blue Nile, Sonic Youth, The Replacements, The Cramps, Fleetwood Mac, Ramones, New Order, The Smiths, The Jam, Talking Heads, Morrissey, Yazoo, The Stone Roses, The Flying Pickets, Tears For Fears, Psychedelic Furs, Pixies, Cocteau Twins, My Bloody Valentine.

The 80′s went on - clearly his favourite, a playful debate over the best record of the decade. Him - Everywhere, Fleetwood Mac. You - Hats, The Blue Nile.

It’s Hats that ends up on the record player. Background noise, you can still hear him, without the music pumping in your veins. He has a shoebox under his bed - Matty thinks there are actual shoes inside, not weed. A practical hiding place. Rolling spliffs while you get more drinks. You know his kitchen better than his bedroom.

He tells you stories from the floor - about the band, Matty, fills you in on what you’ve missed while smoke clouds. Obscuring features and thoughts.

The band are close to getting signed, they’re writing better stuff, he’s not with Alexa anymore, Matty’s dating some seventeen year old and has started writing a book, his sister got a new puppy called Lola - yes after the song. He talks most about Matty and dogs. More of the latter when the weed begins to kick in. His two greatest loves, you tease. He doesn’t deny it. Quintessential - typical George.

He’s teaching, attempting to teach you, how to blow smoke rings, sat opposite you on the bed. Downed drinks and melting ice - forgotten on the floor. Giggles filtering through smoke. He tells you - you should come over more often, like old times, to play Mortal Kombat. Matty was getting way too cocky, and you were the only one that could ever manage to top him.

Then it’s back to bands - he remembers how much you adore punk rock, Sex Pistols. He thinks Matty still has a tshirt you left here once before a night out. He does - you seen him wearing it at a gig a few weeks back. George pontificates - about genres for a while, about how their new sound defies that. Defies the genre boundaries of the charts, society’s perceptions. Why they couldn’t manage to get signed. He tells you he’ll play you a few songs later if you stick around for supper. Matty’s bringing back Chinese.

He has new tattoo’s - ones your fingertips trace with ease, splatters of colour spiraling down his arm. There’s a snail on the inside of his wrist - one he tells you he wishes he could remember the story behind when you ask. Smoke curls - thick in the air, when you tell him you want to get one. He grins, insisting he’ll take you to his mate.

“He’s gotten well good now - me and Matty don’t just let him practice on our legs anymore,” he tells you through an exhale. When you still sound doubtful - having seen the practice scrawls on both their legs - he chuckles, a lopsided smirk, setting his blunt down before leaning closer and naturally your eyes flicker from his to his lips. “Don’t worry, love - wouldn’t let any less than the best touch you.”

For a second - you’re certain he’s going to kiss you, and you’re ready for that. It’s been way too long. His lips land on the tip of your nose - enticing further giggles, and you don’t ask him to kiss you. Despite every bone in your body, every thought - screaming, burning.

When spliffs near half finished - record replaying, George sprawled on the bed, smoke clouding - watching your every move. Not quite sure why he hasn’t done this before - with you. You’ve found the wall that held clutters of polaroids - some recognisable as ones you had taken, shared mates, gig nights, festivals, birthdays, pubs, family - a lot of memories, a lot you knew the stories behind, a lot you wish you knew the stories behind.

Surprisingly there’s a lot of you and George - scattered dates and smiles and funny faces. The only real giveaway that time had passed between poses - George’s hair went from short to long, your’s changed style and colours, tattoo’s made appearances and your braces disappeared.  

“You always looked well cute with them,” quiet, in time with the record. Realising he’s moved closer, edge of his bed, a clear view of the wall you were currently entranced with.

A giggle, shaking your head - “they were hideous, Christ.”

It’s quiet then, a comfortable silence. Through The Downtown Lights, smoke, and evanesce of evening sunlight filtered through half shut blinds.

"C'mere," - low, setting the spliff down, fingers reaching for your hand, pulling you back over to him, the bed. You edge inbetween his legs, lip catching between your teeth when he takes your blunt, inhaling before setting it alongside his.

Fingers - his hair, and you mumble something about how you liked it when it was longer.

Fingers - spanning down the back of your neck. bringing your lips to his. Smoke curling, intertwining around tongues. Hesitantly - lowering yourself to his lap, knees at his hips, arms - his neck, your fingers hover around his hair.

George - not so hesitant, fingers gripping at thighs, bringing bodies closer. Evoking - soft sounds, when tongues overlap. Lips - slow, lazy against yours, but there’s still a lack of air, lungs beginning to burn. And you’ve missed this - the feeling of him, the taste of him. The familiar ache for more, the welcome electricty of every touch. He tastes like how he smells - with an underlay of something sweeter.

Fingers - end up entangled in hair, using it to guide his mouth back to yours when swollen lips wandered astray. When the burning in chests and spinning in heads became unbearable, and oxygen became more of a vital need than a want - lips left yours in favour of planting messy kisses along your jaw, all pants of hot air and heaving chests and frantic touches through hazy vision.

George is the focal point - the only centre of gravity keeping you down. His name echoing through your thoughts, his taste rushing through your veins, and his touch drums out your heartbeats.

Warmth - fingers grip your hips, so tight you know there’ll be ghosts of imprints later on, not something you were adverse to. Just like the marks he took the initiative to litter down the right side of your neck. Drawing out his own beat of soft sounds in forms of breathless sighs and whimpers. All while frantic fingers struggled with the zip on your hoodie, yours on the hem of his tshirt. Heat radiating, lust surging.

A harsh carnality - a growling hunger for more skin, a new ground for lips and teeth.

Your back - cool sheets, a catalyst to the heat. It was cold in the flat, his room before this had started. Bodies - fitting together in an almost flawless manner, fire running in your veins, filling your lungs.

A hellish heat enunciated with each touch of his lips when they travel over untouched skin, exploring new reactions, marks. They stop - the waistband of your shorts, palms against your thighs.

“Is it - I mean is it alright if.. Can I.. Fuck it, is this alright?” dilated pupils, kiss swollen lips, stumbling over words with an evident frustration. Eagerness.

You can only nod, teeth latching onto your lip to suppress giggles. Heat - reigniting when lips skim over skin, inside of your thighs. Enticing new sounds - hinting towards carnality. Hips - twitch, upwards, chasing his mouth when kisses are felt through thin material. Where you crave him. His name - spilling from your lips, a desperate kind of sound, not one you have any control over.

Friction - calloused fingertips coming to rest, play with the hem of your underwear. Clouded pupils meeting yours - and you’ve grown far too impatient. Fingers - his hooking into green cotton, yours reaching guiding his down.

This was something you and George did - together. This was new - but it had always been there. An over looming tension, a threatening thunderstorm.

So when your breath sort of stops at the sudden realisation of it all, and George’s catches in his throat, an almost inaudible sound - somewhere between a groan and a chuckle of ‘nice.’ Albeit - it’s an almost to himself comment, one you can’t prevent a bout of giggles to, echoed by him when he glances up again. And they sink into your veins when his lips, your thigh.

His name mixed with jumbled expletives - ricochet around your throat when his mouth is finally on you. Where it counts, where you crave him, where the source of the fire is.

Your eyes snap shut - the intensity of the pleasure, heat. His glance up - gauging reactions of certain spots. Fingers - one hand entangled through his hair, the other gripping at bedsheets. Fingers - your thighs, hips, cool imprints.

There’s gravel in his throat when he gets a taste of you. Better than what he had ever expected - sweet, a hint of tangy. His low sounds against you enticing louder ones to travel through your body.

Teeth - sinking into your lower lip, hips arching towards him when he tongue ficks over hyper sensitive flesh. An action he repeats just to feel your thighs shudder, tremble around him for a second time. Just to hear the harshness of the carnal sounds spilling from your lips.

And after seconds, minutes of him setting a tormentalous dance, you begged for him to do it again. Begged in form of unhinged sounds resembling desperate pleas, breathless pants of his name. Something he’s be lying if he says he’s never thought about, fantasised about. Hearing her beg for him. Hearing how needy she was for him. How much she needed him.

Once it sufficed enough for him, smirk curving against skin - he gave in. Fire - brought your thighs to tremble around his head, your back to arch when nerve endings sparked off in your lower stomach. Frantic mewls - desperate renditions of his name, along with, ‘please’s’ and ‘fuck’s’ all disarranged into one word.

Gentle coaxes, encouragements - reberverting against sensitive skin, your hips twitching towards him, breathless sounds. His hand catching yours - fingers lacing, your nails grazing the back of his hand.

Building - blood rushing, and your sounds grow louder, his name echoes, thighs tremble. Nearing the edge - you fingers, his hair, all but forcing his face further against you. A state of overbearing ecstasy.

George - low groans, throaty sounds, giving another sensation. The one that tips you over the edge, knocking any sort of balance you had left. Spiraling undone, shattering around him.

Messy hair and equally messy bedsheets. Sheets - wrapped around your lower waist, bare legs draped over George’s. George - Calvin’s, heated skin cooling, harsh marks darkening. The shared spliff between his lips - fingers tracing freckles along your leg. Comfortable, silence. George put on a different record. Beach Boys. 

Gaze - lingering, when he passes you the spliff. You focus on the smoke instead, teasing out shapes, smirk curving your lips when his hand, fingers inch higher, tracing over a mark he left. 

“You’re proper cool, y’know - really fit,” and it obvious by how much his words lag just how high he is. Not that you’re much better. A soft sound - a laugh, head resting against the wall, lolling towards him. “All that from a bit of head? Wow, G.”

“Oi,” - an uneven smile, elbow to your ribs. “Always thought you were cool - even with the braces and very edgy fringe.” 

 A louder laugh when you tell him to shut up. But - he tells her he’s serious when she passes him back the blunt, smoke curling - obscuring features. It’s darker now, the last bit of sunlight fading, casting shadows across his bedroom. Pink skies. 

Your name leaves his lips - full of sincerity and earnestness. Different. “You know, I really like you. And I know neither of us have been around much but that’s what got me thinking...”

Trailing off, receding back into thoughts for a moment or two, until you make a snide comment.  “George Daniel, thinking - imagine that.”

Chuckles - and he tells you to shush, holding the spliff out of your reach, telling you to be nice and he’ll think about giving you a drag. 

“But seriously, when we leave on the first tour - eventually, I know I’d want you to be there.” He says without really looking at you, and your eyes go wide, the last thing you’d expected him to say, expected him to be thinking about. The confines of his room held more surprises than what you had bargained for and the bass of all those house parties and late walks home was building up in your veins again.

“I mean - I know you’ve uni and probably a proper job by then, but y’know you could still come out to a few, yeah?” Clouded pupils catching yours, his voice lowers further. “It - It would mean a lot to me, I want you there for the start. You’ve always been here, and yeah we don’t talk as much as we’d like to at the moment, but - you’ve never doubted the band, me. Alexa did, you heard how many times she told me I was wasting my time. C’mon, it would be mint - especially with a really cool, really fit bird who doesn’t mind exchanging head every now and then.”  A smile, one that reaches his eyes while you roll yours and tell him he’s gone mad. 

But - George has never been one to give up easily, you know that by now. Just as stubborn as he is placid. Shifting to sit up against the wall. “Look, babe - think about it, anywhere in the world you want to go,” and he lists off names and places you’ve mentioned before, you’re surprised he remembers. “all that with paid hotels. And new merch,” fingers tugging at the faded Nirvana tshirt you had put back on, “Okay, it’ll be our merch, but the best. We get to meet new bands, work with new people - and all those gigs we wanted to go to but could never afford, Matty won’t be able to blow that much on fucking drugs anymore.” 

Smoke clouds, and time passes. George blurts out more selling points, and by the end of it - watching how happy, ecstatic the whole topic makes him. Whether  it’s got to do with the possibility of you being there or not. You’ve made up your mind. You want to see more. More of him being this happy.

Winding down - George’s voice fizzling out, for a second you think he’s fallen asleep. Your name - a different tone, more serious, a hint of uncertainty, vulnerability. A pause. Dilated pupils - focused on a mark on your thigh. Watching - his brow furrow. 

“You’re one of my best friends. It sounds soppy as shit but - I really, I need you there, babe.” 

Deep brown - flickering up, and it’s a rush of breath resembling, “Come with me?”

You stare, gauging for a few seconds. Bringing a near burnt out spliff to your lips, eyes holding his. On an exhale you nod with a shrug. “Alright, mate. I’m in.”

Warmth floods - when a smile that almost splits his face breaks out. Voice wavering, excitement, disbelievement. “Yeah? You’ll do it? You’ll come with me? With the band?”

An amused sound - nodding telling him yes again. Almost pouncing on you at that, a bone shattering hug, one arm tight around your waist. Built on giggles and messy short sloppy kisses that begin to get more heated. 

It’s sudden - a charring heat at your ribs, enticing rasped squeals, screams in shock more than pain, George pulling back in mild confusion. Until - you let out a shout of, “you just bloody burned me with the fucking spliff, you fucking twat.”

Albeit it trails off into a laugh, one he joins in on. Lips - messy kisses, teeth clashing. Mumbled endearments and false promises. A lot like old times, a lot like something new.

[pflibteens]

The Deadly Cruise

Thank you to all the teens that entered our Teen Short Story Contest.

THE DEADLY CRUISE by Emma Morrow

My name is Taylor Alexandrea Maxwell and I'm going on a cruise to the Caribbean with my best friend. At least that’s what I thought. Someone had something else in store for me.

 It was dark. I heard screaming and I couldn't find my way out. I thought this might be the end…

 The plan was to meet Lola and her family at 9:00am on Sunday morning. We are really excited to have a break from school and everyone there. I kiss my parents goodbye, grab my bags from the trunk and as I’m walking towards the cruise ship Lola comes into clearer view. I also see some people from school including some that I like including my ex Ace. I broke up with him because I found out that he was cheating on me. Then I see one of my other friends Gale. I looks like he came with his girlfriend Amelia and from the looks of it she brought her entire squad with her. I’m not surprised. Miss Queen Bee is the head cheerleader and her friends Brittany and Sarah are the co-captions. Standing next to them were their boyfriends Tom and Rex who are on our school's football team. Luckily we ended up in separate boarding areas so I didn’t have to scramble for something to say.

 After we got on the cruise ship Lola and I go get our nails done at the spa. I got mine painted blue and Lola got hers done magenta. Just as we were finishing up under the drying lamp, a loud voice rang out over the ship’s speaker system. We were all being called to go to the main deck. When we got there we were faced with a horrifying sight; the captain and all of the workers were dead! The loud speaker interrupted our shock. It sounds like a man's voice saying “Welcome to the deadly cruise I am your new captain and I killed all of them. Will you be my next victim? Taylor , Lola, Ace, Gale, Amelia, Brittany, Sarah,Tom and Rex I would listen very closely to me right now. Do whatever I say or else one of you will die. Have you even noticed that one of you is missing?” We all look around what I saw was terrifying I...I...see lola laying in a pool of blood and a note saying “This is what will happen if you don't obey me.” I screamed “How could you do this to her!” “Oh sweet Taylor I like you. You have a little spunk in you. Oh and Ace how could you do such a thing to Taylor? I mean she is so pretty and sweet how could you cheat on her?” the voice said. “How could you do this to Lola? You're a monster! I yelled.” “You have no idea...now y’all need to get to bed.” “We are not children!”  “No you are my toys.” Then all of a sudden everything went black.

 When I woke up I was back in the cabin. I expected to see Lola and it hit me “that monster murdered her” I thought to myself. I was so upset and to make it worse the voice returned on the speaker. “Hello my toys. I hope that you had a good rest. Now everyone go on the main deck and don't worry about the…mess. I cleaned it all up. And Taylor I'm so sorry. She had to die for all of you to understand that I'm going to get what I want.”

 I get out of bed and think, does it really matter what I’m wearing and go out to the main deck. Everyone is there except Lola and I feel my stomach churn. “I'm glad you are all here but I need to talk to one of you alone. Everyone go to the back of the boat. Turn left and you will see a door. Go inside and await my instructions or else more people will die.” We all go into the room and what we see are millions of mirrors and a single candle lit in what seems to be the middle of the room.  And then it went dark.   I heard screaming and I couldn't find my way out. I thought this might be the end…

 All of a sudden the lights flickered back on and all I saw was somebody standing in front of me. I was wondering what had happen to my friends, did they die? Did he throw them overboard? But then I heard a voice “hello sweet Taylor I bet you're wondering where your friends are.” “Yes I am in fact.” “Well we will have to play a game for you to find out.” I stand up and in my mind I'm thinking that this man standing in front of me is the man who is putting us all through this nightmare. He is also the man that killed my best friend Lola so I ask him a question, “Why are you doing this?” He says nothing so I ask again why are you doing this? He didn’t answer my questions but says to come with him. I follow so he does not kill anyone else. “Have you ever heard of the game hide and seek Taylor?” “Yes I have why do you ask?” “That's the game we are going to play” he tells me. “Why hide and seek?” “Well because I have hidden your friends and you have to seek them. If you can't find your friends in forty-eight hours then I will kill them. Time starts now.”

 By this time we are in the back of the ship and all that is going through my head is how am I going to find out where this psycho put my friends. When I looked up he was gone but I'm not really worried about him being gone. I go into the first room I see. It is pitch black so I close that door and go downstairs. I see a couple of chairs and some rope and duct tape as well. It is pretty dark in there but there is another door in that room and I think “he had my friend’s in here” then that psycho comes on the loudsd peaker saying “I advise you not to go in there Taylor.” All I can think is that he has my friends in there and doesn't want me to find them. I decide to yell “Are you stalking me?” He says “Of course not I'm using my cameras to see you.” “Same difference.” “That's where I keep my dead bodies, don’t go in there Taylor. I’m warning you” he pleads. In shock and not hearing his words, I push the door open. He wasn’t lying.

 Waking up in a pool of sweat, my mother barges in begging me to wake up, “You’ll miss the boat if you don’t get up right now Taylor; that cruise ship is not going to wait for you. And please don’t forget your toothbrush.” “Hey Mom? I think I just want to stay home for spring break.”